


The Impact of a Dead Man's words

by sweettartsmeetdots



Series: Anguis fulminis [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dark Ron, F/F, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Homophobic Ron, Lucius is in jail, M/M, Maybe dead they don't check on him, Mentions of Starvation, Mentor Severus Snape, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Bashing, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry, bad words oops, kind of, language warning, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettartsmeetdots/pseuds/sweettartsmeetdots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone<br/>Lily Potter reconciled with Severus Snape after he turned spy for the Dark Lord, and she knew that while Sirius was wonderful, Severus would be a more responsible Godfather should anything happen.<br/>Well, things do happen and Severus is about to adopt baby Harry when Albus refuses to allow it, sending Harry instead to his horrid muggle family. When Harry arrives at Hogwarts, he and his two best friends Draco and Pansy find themselves faced with a three headed dog, a poisonous snake in the dorms and the wrath of a rejected Weasley.</p><p>I do not own any of the characters, plot or quotes. JK Rowling and company own everything, I am making no profit.</p><p>I update about once a day, once every few days if I'm busy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first work, but this is my first ever published work. Please let me know what you think, good or bad. I use some quotes form the books because one cannot match the beauty of JK Rowling's writing in many scenarios. Enjoy!

“Are you absolutely sure that he can be trusted?” Severus asks, for what has to be the millionth time that day. Lily sighs, her amusement over Severus’ worry quickly fading into exasperation.  
“Yes, Sev. He isn’t like his brother, we trust him.”  
“But I could always-”  
“And risk the Dark Lord rifling through your thoughts and finding us? I’m sorry Sev, but that’s just not possible.” She sighs, and Severus snaps his mouth shut at the mention of the Dark Lord.  
“You know I wouldn’t. Lily, I’ve changed.” He says, his voice turning into a plea. She squeezes his hand reassuringly.  
“I believe you Sev, I know that being a spy for him is awful. But I don’t want him to punish you.” She says, her voice nearly a whisper by the last word. Severus searches her eyes, hoping to find something, anything to make him feel better but her eyes are sincere and firm.  
“Lily, he refuses to go to sleep.” James whines, coming back into the room carrying a babbling one year old on his hip. Lily smiles, reaching her arms out to take her son. Severus smiles lightly at the cooing baby, making rubbish noises with rapt attention to his mother’s face.  
Falling back onto the worn maroon arm chair next to Severus, James rakes his hands down his face.  
“Parenting not as easy as you hoped?” Severus quips lightly, careful to tread on the safe side of conversation as his relationship with James has grown into a reluctant acceptance of the place either holds in Lily’s heart. Glancing through his hands at Severus, James rolls his eyes.  
“As if you’d know Sniv- Severus.” He says, nearly slipping. Lily takes no notice, and only looks up from her baby when a sharp knock cuts through the tense air. Sweeping from his chair, wand drawn, Severus reaches the front door before James, and quietly whispers an identifying spell.  
“It’s the dog.” He chides, returning to sit by Lily as James glares in his direction, letting Sirius into the house.  
With a soft crack, Dumbledore spins to a stop in the middle of the sitting room, the odd assortment of people not fazing him in the least as he drops the frayed strip of rope, a portkey, to the tea table.  
The acknowledgement of the act about to take place has each of the adults tense, aside from the elder as he smiles at Harry through his crescent spectacles.  
“Well, I believe we decided that Sirius shall be the secret-keeper for your home, James and Lily?” He asks, and Sirius nods. Scowling, Severus waits for Dumbledore to retrieve James’ invisibility cloak and giving his blessing on the Potter’s plans, before taking the rope once again and disappearing.  
“I have to be off Lily, I must reach the Manor before he arrives.” Severus says sourly, watching as the two supposed adults play in the kitchen like bloody children, leaving Lily to rock the baby to sleep.  
“Bye, Sev, we’ll see you tomorrow then?” She asks, kissing his cheek. He nods, grinning down at the baby in her arms before commenting, “Pity he looks like him, but he does have your eyes.”  
Ignoring his comment about James, she smiles.  
“Yes, he does. Sev, about last week-” she begins, but he cuts her off.  
“No, Lily. If he gets to be the secret keeper, then I will be the boy’s legal guardian should anything happen. Besides, leaving him to Black would be a disaster.” With this, he sweeps out of the little cottage, and apparates to a rainy alley preparing to spy on the Dark Lord.  
Once reaching the gates of the Manor, Severus scowls before passing through the enchanted metal, allowed entrance because of the brand prickling the skin of his left forearm. Nearly kicking the nearest albino peacock in irritation, he walks quickly up to the front doors, entering without announcement. Ignoring the house elf clamoring to get him tea or water, he strides to the dining hall, where the meeting will no doubt take place.  
Having to wait mere minutes, Severus makes stiff conversation with Lucius and Narcissa before the others begin to trickle in.  
First is the Lestranges, Bellatrix skipping and muttering a nursery rhyme under her breath before sitting next to Severus. The image should seem comical, however her deranged appearance and the unhinged look in her eyes carry a sense of foreboding. Next is Macnair, along with Goyle and Crabbe. Avery and Roiser enter speaking in hushed tones, Karkaroff, Nott, Carrow and Yaxley are the last to arrive, only having time to sit before a cold presence settles over the room.  
Focusing on the mental blocks Severus fails to hear the collective inhale as Voldemort enters the room, his face contorted into a scowl.  
“Two of our number have failed to arrive. Young Regulus, I will have to punish him. One does not forgive such forgetfulness a second time.” His odd voice remarks, as he takes a chair at the head of the table.  
“And our newest member, Peter. His absence is most curious, though I shall not waste time searching for him. His purpose is not significant.” He lets out a slight bark of a laugh.  
Before he can continue with his spiel of unnerving comments and threats, a sharp crack rings through the air and a round, hunched man stands at the feet of Voldemort.  
“M-my Lord, p-please, I have found them!” He manages, before Voldemort flicks his wand and the man finds his body frozen against the wall.  
“Pettigrew, if your information is not worth my time you will die today. You have a single chance.” He says coldly. The Dark Lord is nothing if not genuine in his threats, Severus has seen far too much of the wrong end of his wand to suspect otherwise.  
“Thank you, m-my Lord. I have found them! I have found the Potters!”  
Severus’ blood runs cold, his face locked in a blank mask. He told Lily, he should have stopped Black while he still had the chance.  
“Where?” Voldemort demands, already standing.  
“Godric’s Hollow, the end of the street.” Pettigrew manages, before slumping unconscious from over stimulation.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's life with the Dursley's before Severus arrives. Harry finds out he is a wizard, and leaves the Dursley's house for the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be triggering, I don't go into detail but the Dursley's do mistreat Harry. Please let me know if I should have more warnings. Enjoy!

“ _Speaking in Parseltongue_ ”  
“Speaking in English”  
_**Writing**_

Chapter 1  
To say the least, Harry’s childhood was not particularly pleasant. The same cannot be said for his cousin, the same age as Harry but twice his size.

Dudley Dursley seemed to make it his personal mission from the age of two years old to torment the hell out of his runt of a cousin. His parents, Petunia and Vernon happily complied and did everything in their power (short of killing the boy, what a fuss that would make) to make it known that Harry Potter was not a member of their family.

This was perfectly fine with Harry, as far as he saw things they were horrid people. However what was not fine was the constant flow of basic child labour, threats of beatings or starvations a constant topic of discussion, or the fact that he lived in a bloody cupboard.

A sharp rapping on the thin wooden door of said cupboard was accompanied by Aunt Petunia’s shrill demands for him to wake up. The hollow thudding growing steadily closer also told him that Dudley was up, and he sighed as the git jumped on the stairs effectively filling the small space with clouds of sawdust.  
After making the Dursley’s breakfast and stealing a strip of bacon while Dudley screamed over his amount of presents, Harry tried to slink out of the room.

Vernon’s beady eyes follow him, and stepping out into the hall whilst Petunia placates Dudley he grabs the lad’s skinny shoulder, spinning him around.

“Listen here, you. Mrs. Figg isn’t in town, so we are forced to bring you along for Dudley’s birthday. Any funny business, any at all, and you won’t be having any meals for a week!” his large mustache twitched, and he turned to reenter the kitchen to find his son eating icecream happily.

Under an hour later, Harry is grinning widely, never having been to a zoo before. So far, his favorite area is the reptile pavilion. He stands behind the family, watching Dudley bang on the glass trying to wake a sleeping snake. When the snake refuses to move, Dudley moves onto the next habitat, disappointed.  
Sighing, Harry steps closer to the glass once they have left.

Speaking quietly to the animal, Harry nearly falls flat on the arse because, well, h hadn’t expected it to _talk back_!

Before he can make more of this conversation, Dudley is knocking him out of the way, excited to see the snake moving, and in a rush of rage, Harry watches flabbergasted as the glass separating the deadly snake from his cousin disappears altogether. Laughing, Harry watches as his shocked cousin falls forward into the small amount of water inside of the habitat as the huge snake falls with a smack onto the floor next to Harry.

“ _Thanks, human boy_.” the snake hisses before slithering out of the pavilion between the feet of terrified guests.

Vernon catches Harry laughing, and the glint in his eye tells Harry more than any threats could.

The first letter comes, finding Harry in his cupboard for the sixth day in a row since the incident, accompanied by only the spiders and growls of his stomach. Vernon is not a stupid man, he knows that he can’t have a dead body on his hands and so while he kept good on his threat of no meals for a week, his has kept Harry with some cold soup in a can every other day, an apple Dudley ate half of and then left, and a ham sandwich Dudley wouldn’t touch because there was cheese on it. Knowing that their esteemed home could not suffer from the smell a trapped human would create, they let him out for twenty minutes each night with strict rules to shower as quickly as he could and drink what water he could hold until the next day’s break.

While Harry had faced worse, he felt weaker than he’d ever felt. With so little food, his body could hardly continue functioning, let alone begin to heal him from his Uncle’s wrath for ruining Dudley’s day. It was a wonder he was still conscious, almost as if it were magic.

When Dudley collects the mail, complaining loudly, he catches Harry’s attention as he shouts gleefully for his father to come look at a letter.

“Harry’s got a letter Dad! Dad, Dad, come now, Harry’s got a letter!” Squinting through the grate, Harry wants desperately to read the thick looking envelope, the maroon words on which he could just make out.

_**Harry James Potter** _   
_**Number four, Private Drive** _   
_**The Cupboard under the stairs** _

His heart racing, Harry watches in dismay as his uncle destroys the letter, his face white as a sheet as he locks Dudley from the kitchen to speak with Petunia.

The second letter, Harry manages to grab before his Uncle lands a sharp blow and snatches it away to burn. When the third, fourth and fifth all meet the same fate, Harry is nearly mad with curiosity, also wondering the words his Uncle has no issue voicing, “Who would write to him?”

It is on Sunday evening when the doorbell rings, Harry already having been sent to his cupboard for the letters that weren’t his fault, and Vernon lets out a loud sigh. Muttering about manners and the inappropriate timing, he gets up to snap at whatever poor soul stands outside.

Waiting with bated breath to hear Vernon’s rude dismissal of the stranger, Harry is confused when such a thing never comes. Instead, a tense silence rings through the air, until Petunia stands from the sitting room asking who was at the door. When Harry sees her form round the corner, he hears a gasp followed by a loud shriek.

Has his uncle been stabbed, is there a murderer just on the steps? Is someone threatening him? Where are the sharp words?

“Petunia, how long it has been.” a cold voice drawls, and Harry sags in relief. While they were awful, Harry did not wish death upon his only form of family.

“You! Leave this instant, you absolute, foul-” she began, however her voice is cut off sharply, as though she had no choice in the matter.

“I am here this most unfortunate evening to collect Harry James Potter, as he has failed to respond to the letters from Hogwarts. I do not wish to be kept waiting, so fetch him if you will.” the voice demands, and Harry’s heart begins hammering.

“Fine, but you will have to keep him from now on. I won’t be taking him back!” she grinds out, and Vernon attempts to protest but Petunia must have silenced him with a glare, because there is silence until the lock begins to click on the outside of Harry’s cupboard.

“What are you rummaging in a broom closet for?” the voice queries, but before she answers bright light floods into the small space and Harry blinks his eyes, trying to adjust.

Waiting to see if she would stop him, Harry slowly crawls from the cupboard, standing with a wince at the cracks that ring out from his protesting limbs.

Looking from his aunt’s pale face, to his uncle’s purple one, Harry’s eyes finally land on the man standing in the hallway, staring back at him with blatant fury.

Flinching back from his gaze, Harry takes in his odd appearance. Black, billowing robes matching his black hair hanging to brush his shoulders, and the cold gaze locked on- no, not him, but his relatives. Harry sighs in relief.

“Who are you?” he asks, unused voice cracking, and instead of responding, the man scowls at the Dursleys.

“Why, pray tell, was my Godson in a cupboard?” the man’s voice sounds like ice, his tone calm but the threat in his eyes anything but.

“Godson?” Harry splutters.

“That is his room, much more than he deserves too. I don’t see why you could not take him, we never asked for the useless lump to be dropped at our doorstep.” Vernon growls.

Harry doesn’t even see the movement before the man holds a long, thin wooden stick to his uncle’s throat.  
“Harry, do you wish to bring anything with you?” the man asks, not breaking eye contact with Vernon.

“No.” Harry says, and the man latches onto his arm before a sharp, twisting feeling crushes him. He feels like he is being squeezed through a tube, his insides churning before he lands roughly on a flat surface once more.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus answers Harry's questions and they gather Harry's school supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No notes, really. Severus asks why Harry is so skinny, but that's about it. Enjoy!

Harry wakes up sprawled across a soft bed, and confusion clouds his mind. Why can’t he feel the walls of his cupboard closing him in? Where is the cold metal of his mattress springs?

 

All at once, it hits him. Sitting up slowly, he looks around the guest room, listening to the sounds of his Godfather in the kitchen the floor below. Yawning, Harry finds the large sweater he had on the night before, and tugged it over the tee shirt he slept in. His pants stayed on. He is practically swimming in Dudley’s old clothes, but he’s happy that they’re clean and not nearly as gross as some of the ones he’d left at Private drive. 

 

Walking from the room, Harry finds his Godfather cooking at an odd looking stove. Sitting at one of the two chairs at the table, Harry watches warily as the man goes about such mundane tasks as scrambling eggs while wearing all black sleepwear. How he manage to continue looking menacing in silk pajamas is beyond Harry. 

 

“What is your name?” he asks, and the man turns to him. 

 

“Severus Snape.” he says, and preparing two plates, a cup of coffee and one of milk for himself and Harry respectfully, he takes the seat across from him. 

 

“You said that you would answer any questions I have, if I went to bed and waited until morning.” Harry says carefully, structuring the thought as more of a statement rather than a question to prevent the man denying him. 

 

“Indeed.” Severus allows, taking a sip from his mug before looking into Harry’s eyes. 

 

“You’ve Lily’s eyes.” he says, and it startles Harry. 

 

“My mum?” he verifies, feeling silly immediately at doing so. Who else?

 

“Yes.” he murmurs, before returning to his plate with a tight expression. 

 

“Ask away, I will answer what I can and I will be honest with the expectation that when I ask you a question, you will grant me the same courtesy.” he drawls, looking back at Harry to see the boy nodding.

 

“My aunt said that you were my Godfather. If so, why couldn’t I live with you?” Harry asks carefully, making sure that his tone is merely inquisitive to avoid awkward questions about why he didn’t like the Dursleys. 

 

“Albus, that is, Headmaster Dumbledore, forbade me from rightfully adopting you despite the clear wish to do so your parents expressed in their will.” he scowled at the table, and Harry nodded. 

 

“Who is he? And why does he have any say in the matter?” Harry asks. 

 

“He is headmaster of Hogwarts, the school you will be attending. He is, arguably, the wisest wizard alive. He is also my boss, and I hold great respect for the man and so as much as I despised the idea, I could not adopt you without his signature.” Severus explains, and Harry finds himself fixated on one particular word of this explanation. 

 

“Excuse me, but I thought you just said wizard?” he asks, and Severus meets his eyes.

“They have not told you?” he asks, and his tone is once again cold, though Harry knows this time that it is not directed towards him. 

 

“Told me  _ what? _ ” he asks, exasperated. Obviously they hadn’t told him if he was asking. 

 

“You are a wizard, Harry. As am I, as were your parents. Though, we refer to females as witches, and your mother was the only witch in her family.” he says, and Harry falters. What the hell?

 

“Sorry, but why would any of this make sense? I want to believe it, but how?” he says, and even as he does so he knows it is a lost cause. How else would he still be alive after the Dursley’s care? How else did he end up on the school roof running from Dudley, or talk to snakes and make glass disappear?

 

“I think that you know it’s true, Harry. Hogwarts is a school of magic, so you’ll soon have all the proof you’d need. However, for this next week before term, you will no doubt see me perform magic.” he says, and Harry nods. 

 

“Why can’t you show me now?” he asks, rather childishly. 

 

“Because we have things to discuss.” Severus says, yet he nonchalantly used his wand to reheat his now cold coffee, hiding his smirk behind the mug as Harry rolls his eyes, a smile on his own face.

 

“Okay, so magic is real and I can do it. What is this school like?” he asks, and Severus takes a minute to think. Harry decides that while this all seems bizarre, he didn’t want to go back to his life, or lack thereof without a good story to tell.

 

“Well, there are four houses. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You will be sorted based on your personality, and then you will sleep with your housemates, spend free time in your common room and maintain the reputation of your house. There is a point system, but that will all be explained to you at the start of term feast. There are basic classes, and as you get older you will drop some and take on others more specialized to the career you hope to pursue. During your fifth year, you will be taking a test known as OWLs, and then your seventh you will be taking NEWTs.” he explains. Harry nods, taking it all in. The first bit stuck with him.

 

“What house will I be in?” he asks. Severus studies him. 

 

“I would imagine Gryffindor, both of your parents were.” he says, and Harry narrows his eyes.

“Which house were you in?” 

 

“Slytherin. I am the head of house currently. This means that I oversee the students, keep them in line and help them when they need it.” he explains, before Harry asks. 

 

“How did my parents die?” the question is so abrupt and blunt that Severus has to collect himself before answering, his face one of shock then slipping into one of focus.

 

“You promised not to lie.” Harry reminds him.

 

“Indeed. They were murdered by an evil wizard, known by the name Lord Voldemort.” he says, his face twitching at the last two words as though they caused him pain to say. His hand absentmindedly begins to fuss at his left inner forearm. 

 

“Why? Was he caught?” Harry asks, and though he feels an awful emptiness and sharp sadness in his stomach he decides he must find out. 

 

“They fought against him. They were brave, they died heros. He is dead for now, something went wrong that night.”

 

“What was it?” Harry asks, missing the cryptic implimission that the sorcerer is alive still.

 

“You.” the word shocks Harry. Before he can ask Severus to elaborate, he does so on his own.

 

“There are curses that wizards are forbidden to cast. They will land you in Azkaban, the wizarding prison, without trial. One of these is the Killing curse, one cannot stop it. It has never failed. He killed your father, then your mother, and then tried to kill you. But something did not work, you are the only known survivor of this curse. He was defeated that night, and you left without more than that scar.” He nods to the scar on Harry’s forehead. A sense of dread fills Harry’s stomach. 

 

“Nobody knows, right? That I’m a freak?” he asks, his voice faltering on the last word. Eleven years with the Dursleys hardly does wonders for one’s self esteem, unless you’re Dudley. 

 

“You are not a freak.” Severus snaps, before taking a deep breath. 

 

“You saved the world from a man whom had killed many, and tortured more. And, to answer your question, nearly every wizard in the world knows you, and what you’ve done. I am afraid you will have to get used to the spotlight, Mr. Potter.” he says, and Harry scowls. 

 

“I don’t want it. I didn’t even mean to.” he protests, but Severus simply clears the plates away with a flick of his wand. 

 

“Come on, we have to get your school supplies before they are sold out.” a glance at Harry’s clothes has Severus pursing his lips.

 

“We will purchase clothes once we arrive, but for now I will simply have to shrink those to fit properly.” Severus flicks his wand once more, and his eyes widen minutely when the shirt shrinks much more than he thought it would. The baggy clothing had done nothing to hide the boy’s short height, but now there was no denying that he was starved and malnourished.  

 

“Harry-” he begins, but a sharp glare cuts him off. 

 

“I will be honest with you when you ask, but that is not a conversation I want to have.” he says, and Severus nods albeit vowing to return to the conversation in the future.

 

“What day does the train leave?” Harry asks as he tries to get over that twisting feeling that Severus explains is apparation. 

 

“August 31, platform 9 and ¾.” Severus explains. Harry looks around him in awe, fully grown wizards and witches moving around in swirls of colourful robes. The shoppe windows broadcast things like self-cleaning cauldrons and the latest broomstick style. Outside of the shoppes are stands where elder witches sell silent knitting needles and colour changing yarn, and a man sells small monkeys the size of a thumb, that sing when you tickle them. Harry could stand and observe for hours, but Severus begins to walk with purpose. He moves first towards a grand, white marble building with golden embellishments. 

 

Swirling golden letters weave above the double doors as Severus and Harry approach, reading  _ Gringotts _ , and then below that in a smaller font ‘Britain’s Greatest Wizarding Bank’. When Harry follows him inside, he stops and has to remind himself that staring is rude. Short, elderly men line either side of the vast hall, sitting on elevated desks that belie their size. Only once they come around the counter, leading wizards through back doorways does Harry realize that the tallest of them must hardly reach three feet. Their ears are elongated and pointed, their noses hooked and their teeth tiny but sharp. Severus stops in front of an empty desk, and asks to be taken to his own vault, as well as Harry Potter’s. Leering down at the boy, the goblin asks if Severus has the two keys.

 

Once the goblin has taken Harry’s key and fingerprint, as he has no wand form of identification, they are led back through the left most door.  

 

The air is so dark, illuminated vaguely by torches too far apart to do any good, and so Harry runs into Severus’ back when he stops in front of a rusted cart teetering on a thin railroad track extending a few feet before dropping below sight. Somehow managing to maintain his air of dignity, Severus sweeps elegantly into the cart along with the bespectacled goblin and uncoordinated boy. Just as Harry had feared, the cart dropped down in an almost vertical swoop before twisting with a jolt and making many complicated turns and twisting patterns through a maze of darkness. However, Harry finds that he rather likes the dropping feeling in his stomach and the cold wind rushing against his face. Perhaps this is what a roller coaster is like?

 

Once they stopped to collect a large sum from Severus’ vault, they return to the cart and stop after a short while outside of Harry’s. He notes that he has quite a sum left from his parents, and he fills his money bag with what he deems enough for the year before returning to the cart for yet another vault. 

 

“I must retrieve something for the Headmaster, Harry.” he explains lightly before directing the Goblin to vault 713 with a note Harry assumed was from Dumbledore as the goblin does not question him. This vault, although larger than either Harry’s or Severus’ holds only holds a grubby looking parcel, about the size of a baseball.  

 

Once they leave the bank, Severus takes the lead once more directing him towards a cozy brick building labeled  _ Flourish and Blotts _ . Taking out Harry’s school list, he moves to gather all of the volumes that Hogwarts require. Harry finds himself overwhelmed by how much magic is in this place. The books in his arms feel alive with energy, thrumming and pulsing. 

 

Once Harry has paid for his books, something Severus tried to purchase until Harry sent him a glare and swept in front of him, they move towards a small, dark shoppe labeled  _ Ollivanders _ . Severus shrinks the books down before dropping them into a bag, and holding the door open for Harry. Walking into the stuffy room, Harry feels the strict energy of magic once again, his heart pulsing faster with the tension in the air. Thin, long boxes without labels line the walls, stacked precariously and covering every available surface. Harry leans in to study an open box, catching sight of a thin stick of wood lying in purple satin before an elder wizard walks around a stack of boxes. His shoulders hunched slightly, and his face is lined with wrinkles however he seems to be full of energy, ecstatic to provide another wizard with a wand. 

 

“Mr. Potter! It seems just yesterday I was helping your parents buy  _ their  _ first wands! Come, come, I have a few set out for you.” he jabbers away, and Harry follows him wary of the wobbling stacks taller than him as he moves into an open space in the room. 

 

“Spruce wood, unicorn hair, ten inches.” Ollivander mutters, stepping closer with a wand in his hand.

Handing Harry the thin, light colored wand he steps back, waiting in anticipation. Harry feels silly for a moment as the elder man studies him, not sure what he is meant to do. 

 

“No, no! No, perhaps…” he takes the wand back, coming to Harry once more with another one. 

“Holly, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, springy.” 

 

Once more, nothing happens but Ollivander seems slightly more pleased. 

 

“Yes, yes, holly then. Perhaps… I wonder…” he talks to himself, Harry watching curiously as he rummages around for a box deeply rooted underneath the piles. 

 

“Holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches.” handing Harry the wand, Ollivander watches with bated breath as the wand comes to life in Harry’s hand. A soft golden light issues from the wand, ruffling Harry’s hair and making him grin.

 

“Most curious indeed.” Ollivander says, smiling softly at Harry as though he were a complicated puzzle.

 

“What is, sir?”

 

“That wand shares a brother, Mr. Potter. The phoenix who gave a tailfeather for your wand, gave another. The other wand caused that scar on your forehead.” he explains, and Harry’s brow furrows in confusion. 

“You mean Voldemort?” Harry asks, his eyes widening as Ollivander flinches. 

 

“Seven galleons young man.” he says instead, and Harry pays before finding Severus once more and relaying the information to him. 

 

“Ah, yes. Many people refuse to say his name, Harry. The months before his defeat were terrifying, many people lost family. They refer to him instead as He-who-must-not-be-named, or you-know-who.” 

 

“That’s thick, even if he still is around fear of his name would only serve to empower him.” Harry scowls. Severus looks down at him curiously, before directing him into a Potions shoppe.

 

“We will be handpicking the supplies, never purchase the school sets.” Severus says, walking past the stand labeled for hogwarts students and towards shelves lined with different jars and bottles. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“They fill them with inferior ingredients, not necessarily incorrect but not nearly as potent. Hogwarts also requests a cauldron, do not buy the standard steel cauldron. You will have to replace it sooner, and the iron cauldron is better for working with sensitive potions.” he explains, seemingly in his element. 

 

Harry watches in fascination as Severus points out the differences in ingredients and explaining the reactions they can cause.  

 

Once they held all of the necessary supplies, and a few others when Harry requested Severus show him how to brew a beginners potion to reduce a fever, they moved back out into the busy streets. 

 

Harry despised clothes shopping, and the hour spent getting measured and ordering the school robes to be sent with his house colors once he’d been sorted seemed to drag on for days. Severus did not look comfortable by any means, however he did roll his eyes at Harry’s obvious distaste for the experience, something Harry had come to recognize as Severus’ way of showing amusement. 

 

“You will be needing a pet, I’ve no doubt Gryffindor gets lonely with so many people and so few brains.” Severus drawls, leading Harry towards the crowded animal shoppe down the road. 

 

“Who says I’ll be in Gryffindor?” 

 

“Both of your parents were, I daresay you hold the qualities of a strong headed martyr. Besides, the entire wizarding world expects the great Harry Potter to be in Dumbledore’s house.” Severus bites back, and Harry decides that if only to prove them wrong, he will be anywhere but Gryffindor.

 

“What are the characteristics of the other houses, then?” Harry asks as they move from the small crowd fussing over cats and owls to wait for an opening. They find themselves by smaller animals, snakes and rodents and even a toad. 

 

“When we get back.” Severus says, and Harry just nods, fascinated with the small oddly patterned snake in the habitat, staring back at him. Thinking back to the zoo, Harry decides to try to speak once more the the animal. 

 

“ _ Hello _ .” he tries, feeling stupid.

 

“ _ Hello, human boy. _ ” the snake replies, and Harry sighs in relief. 

 

“ _ What is your name?” _

 

“ _ I have no name, human boy.” _

 

_ “My name is Harry. What kind of snake are you?” _

 

_ “I am most commonly referred to as the Black Mamba.”  _

 

_ “ _ Harry.” Severus’ sharp voice brings him back. 

 

“What on earth are you doing?” Severus asks, though his strong gaze tells Harry that he knows exactly what is happening. 

 

_ “ _ I’m merely talking to the snake sir.” he defends, and Severus’ jaw tightens.

 

_ “ _ Is this a skill you have always had?”

 

_ “ _ Yes sir, I accidentally set a snake on my cousin Dudley. That’s why I had to stay in my, er, room, for so long without, erm, snacks.” Harry says, knowing that Severus understands his meaning.

 

“That is not an ordinary talent, Harry. Even in the wizarding world. You would do well to keep this to yourself.” Severus says, before moving to speak in hushed tones with the sales clerk.

 

“Harry, if I can trust you to keep your snake from biting me or yourself you may keep him. Ask if this is a promise that he can make before I purchase him.” Severus says, and Harry grins.

 

“Really sir? Brilliant!” Spinning to face the snake, Harry secures a promise from him in exchange for good treatment and lots of mice. The shopkeeper explains that the snake acts as a tool for wizards, strengthening Harry’s magic and allowing him to focus his magic so as to make it more potent. Severus elaborates that the snake holds a similar function to a wand, helping to center Harry’s natural magic.

Walking back out onto the busy street, Harry tries to get used to the feeling of his new snake curling around his arm, as Severus said that this would make Apparation easier.

 

Taking his outstretched arm, Harry winces as the now familiar feeling of suffocation washes over him before he lands unsteadily on the grounds in front of Severus’ house. 

 

Having been too confused to take in the house the previous night, Harry looks around at the large amount of land Severus owns despite the modest size of his house. A potions lab is extended off of the right of the house, and Harry struggles to see the dots of other houses in the distant hills. Severus is by no means an extrovert, he mused. 

 

“I will unshrink your things to be packed away, you’ve three days before we depart for Hogwarts.” Severus says, sweeping into the house and setting his traveling cloak to the side. 

 

“You have the same deadline to establish trust with your snake, if I am to convince the Headmaster that he is safe for a school setting then I must believe so myself.”

 

“Yes sir. Will you tell me more about the school? Why can’t we go into the forest? What are the four houses like?” Harry rambles. Severus cocks a brow, his sneer that Harry now sees as more of a smirk firmly in place. 

 

“If one didn’t know better I’d say you’re nervous, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Simply curious.”

 

“Well, the forest is forbidden because it houses creatures whom are under no obligation to show students mercy. The four houses each have distinguishing characteristics. Gryffindor houses the brave and daring, Hufflepuff the kind and loyal. Ravenclaw, the smart and witty, and Slytherin the cunning and ambitious.” 

“Hufflepuff sounds lame.” 

 

“Many agree with you, however it does you no good to underestimate someone based on their sorting. I find that though many believe Slytherins to be evil and cruel, the worst person I’ve ever met was housed in Gryffindor.” Severus turns from him then, and begins to make lunch clearly finished with the conversation. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Hogwarts.

“Why must I go on the train? Can’t I just go with you and avoid all of the fuss?” Harry asks, dreading having to make friends and the stares that Severus amusedly told him he would face.

 

“No, I have things to attend to whilst all of the students are on the train. You have friends to make. I won’t be able to accompany you onto the train, a dear friend of mine is arriving here shortly with her son to take both of you to the platform.” Severus says, sealing his own trunks closed and shrinking them. 

 

“Are they in my year?”

 

“Yes, Draco is a first year like yourself. Ah, that should be them.” Opening the front door with a flick of his wand, Harry watches suddenly even more nervous than before as two elegant figures walk into Severus’ home. The woman, assumedly Narcissa Malfoy as Severus had called her earlier, is regal and delicate carrying with her an air of authority. Her platinum blonde hair is the same of her son, who looks to be about Harry’s height and as pale as his mother. Both are dressed in crisp black wizards robes, a sharp contrast to the light features. 

 

“Hello, Cissa. I trust Harry will be safe in your care?” Severus asks, his hand falling on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Of course, Severus. I am afraid we have no time for pleasantries, Draco insists he find a good compartment on the train, for this we must be early.”

 

“Yes, travel safely Narcissa. I will see you at Hogwarts, boys.” Severus turns as Narcissa holds her arms out to the two boys. 

 

“Hold firmly to your trunks as we apparate, boys.” she says before the air twists around them.

Looking around him, the first thing Harry sees is steam. Lots of steam, billowing from the scarlet train standing just before Harry and Draco as Narcissa fusses over their luggage. Students and parents say their hurried goodbyes as they board the train, and Harry decides to find a compartment. Before he can get more than two feet away, however, Narcissa pulls him back to brush imaginary lint off of his robes and fuss over his hair. Bewildered, he looks over to see Draco smirking at him. 

 

“Have a good term, boys. I’ll see you over holidays Draco, have fun! Be safe!” she says, even as they walk away and climb onto the train. Deciding to just follow Draco since he seems to walk with a purpose, they soon find an empty compartment and settle in it, their trunks going into the overhead racks. Draco claims the seat across from Harry, settling down with an odd combination of boyish enthusiasm and grace.

“I’m Draco, you’re in first year too yea?” he asks, and his voice matches his form. 

 

“Yea, I’m Harry. Which house d’you think you’ll be in?” he asks, jumping to one thing he already knows about Hogwarts. 

 

“Slytherin, of course. My entire family has been in there, the reputation is the only downside to the house and even that isn’t so bad. You?”

 

“Ravenclaw maybe, though I expect it’ll be full of swots. I’m all for learning, but Severus says they take it a bit far. Perhaps Slytherin, I like green.” he rambles, keeping his private spite against Gryffindor to himself,  and he is shocked when Draco laughs. 

 

“Yea, they are probably all bookworms. Are you okay? You shirt sleeve won’t quit moving about.” Draco asks, his eye trained on Harry’s left arm. 

 

“Oh, that’s just Ikarus, my snake.” Harry explains. At hearing his name, Ikarus sticks his head out of Harry’s sleeve, studying Draco. 

 

Harry wants to tell him to behave, but Severus told him to keep his Parseltongue a secret. 

 

“Can you keep a secret?” he finds himself asking, and Draco nods, his eyes lighting with mischief. 

 

_ “Behave, Ikarus. He is a friend.”  _ he says, and Ikarus turns to him, his head wiggling in a nod. 

 

“Whoa, you’re a parselmouth! They’re like, really rare! You’ll be in Slytherin with me for sure!” Draco says, launching into all of the classes he is excited to take and what he can’t wait to do. 

 

They end up bonding over potions, Harry admitting sheepishly that out of curiosity he’d read most of the textbook by now. Draco begins telling him about Defense against the dark arts when their compartment door is banged open. 

 

“Hide me, Pansy won’t leave me alone.” A tall dark skinned boy rushes in, closing the door behind him and pulling the shades. Draco laughs, partially at his friends antics and partially at the shocked look on Harry’s face.  

 

“Blaise, this is Harry. Harry this is Blaise Zabini, he’s in our year.” Draco explains, and Blaise looks over to Harry. His eyes train on Harry’s forehead, the way that Harry is getting used to. He muses that Draco has been the only person not to point out his scar, Narcissa said nothing through her eyes lingered over the scar as she fussed over him. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Blaise says, holding his hand out to Harry. Flopping down next to Draco, he begins to complain once more about the Pansy girl. They spend the next half of the train ride like this, then once the trolley passes by they load up on sweets.

 

Just as Draco decides that they’d better get their bags in order, the compartment door burst open once more. A ruffled looking ginger all but falls inside, looking up at them each until his eyes find Harry. 

“Blimey, you’re Harry Potter!” he shouts, and Harry shifts uncomfortably. He already had to deal with stares, now boys were shouting his name at him. 

 

“I know that.” he says, not meaning to sound rude but for lack of anything else to say. The boy doesn’t seem deterred in the least.

 

“Well then, what are you doing in a carriage full of Slytherins? C’mon, we’ll get you back around your own kind in a jiff.” he says, leaning forward to grab Harry’s arm roughly. 

 

“Hey!” Draco says, but Harry beats him to the admonishment. 

 

“Excuse me, but they happen to be my friends. And you are?” Harry asks, yanking his arm back to fold them across his chest. 

 

“Ron Weasley. Blimey, you’re boney, what are you, starving? Come on, Harry. Let’s go find some other gryffindors so they can tell you all about our house.” Harry bristles further, wanting to defend his weight as well as prove that he is not as predictable as everyone seems to think.

 

“Ron, I am not a Gryffindor. I am a Slytherin, and frankly I’m done speaking and I need to change so if you would kindly leave.” Harry responded, trying to lace his voice with the air of superiority Severus always seemed to have. Well, he thought, this will all look rather thick if I don’t end up in Slytherin. Ron leaves with a glare, and the boys all change. If Draco or Blaise catch sight of Harry’s weight or his bruises, they do not comment.

 

When the train arrives, students rush to be the first off causing a bottleneck at each exit. Harry waits with Draco and Blaise until they can get off without being jostled by the older students, following the bellowing voice calling first years. Looking up, Harry is shocked to see the largest man he’d ever encountered, wider even than Uncle Vernon and twice the height of any man. 

 

Clamoring into a boat with the other two, they glide smoothly over the surface of the Black Lake, Harry shivering slightly as they pass over the freezing water. Watching warily as a black tentacle springs out of the water, catching a bird mid flight and dragging it down into the water, Harry is jostled from his awe of the grounds when Draco points out the castle. With all of the fog, he hadn’t seen it clearly until now. The castle is enormous, towering over the grounds with towers touching the clouds and ending in points, arched windows merely yellow dots on the grey stone. Passing underneath a bridge, they slow to a stop on the opposite shore, gathering in front of a door large enough to dwarf even Hagrid. 

 

The doors swing open, and a stern witch in a pointed scarlet hat and sweeping robes introduces herself as Professor McGonagall before leading them towards the Great Hall. 

 

Draco and Harry exchange grins as she explains the sorting, before they follow the rest of the first years in a line into the great hall. The students seated in the hall crane to look at the first years, and Harry gasps as he takes in the Hall. The ceiling seemingly gives way to the night sky above, twinkling with stars and fog. Hundreds of candles of varying sizes float in the air above the five tables, four of which are for the students while the head table is at the other end. The windows are taller than any person, arched and separated by a thin pillar of wall lit by a flickering torch. Just before the head table is a battered footstool with an old brown hat on it, torn in several places and looking worse for wear. 

 

The sorting seems to go by both agonizingly slow and heart wrenchingly fast. The hat barely touches Draco’s head before he is sorted into Slytherin, along with Greg, Vincent and Pansy. Harry is curious and anxious to get sorted, but when his name is called he feels the stares of every student and teacher alike, wondering where he will be placed. 

 

Ignoring the stares, he walks up to the stool and sits before feeling the surprisingly heavy weight of the hat on his head. 

 

_ Hmm… where to put you? I daresay you have enough drive for Ravenclaw, but that wouldn’t fit quite right, no… Brave, no doubt, but with a healthy dose of self preservation… oh yes, you’re a survivor, that’s for sure… I don’t think Gryffindor is the right place, no, your talents could risk being wasted with the lions, better be- _

 

_ “ _ SLYTHERIN!” the hat finishes, and Harry sighs in relief as he makes his way to the empty spot beside Draco. The house is silent for a pregnant pause, before Draco glares at the kids nearest him and begins the applause each name has met, the Slytherin table soon joining in. 

 

Harry looks up just in time to see Severus study him as though seeing him for the first time, before the last boy, Blaise, is sorted into Slytherin. Continuing to watch the teacher’s table, Harry feels a sudden sharp pain in his head, just over his scar, a pain that demands all of your attention until kit passes. Wincing and holding his forehead, Harry does not see Severus’ worried gaze or the smirk on the turban clad teacher’s face. An elder man wearing silver robes matching his long beard, hair and half-moon spectacles stands, his arms spread as if to embrace the hall. 

 

“Welcome, students. I am Headmaster Dumbledore, how good it is to see you all again. I must bore you with a few words before we all dig in, I do apologize. First, our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is in fact forbidden, and a new list of banned products has been posted outside his office should any of you wish to refresh the knowledge. Lastly, the third floor is restricted, anyone who wishes to go there will be met with a most painful death. Dig in!” he finishes, and food appears on every dish laid on the table, goblets filling with Pumpkin juice and trays full of every dish imaginable. 

 

As the first years around him wonder aloud why the third floor could be restricted, Harry thinks instead of how he now has a face to the only person Severus will take orders from, the man who had denied him a home at Severus’ and sent him to the mercy of his uncle instead. 

 

Harry joins the chatter after a while, and once the meal is over the Prefects lead the first years out of the hall and through an archway, the spacious hallways lit by flickering torches much more efficient than those of Gringotts. Trying to memorize the series of twists and turns that lead them to a black space of wall across from a painting, Harry loses hope of finding his way in this place. The prefects explain the rules, including the house points, upholding the reputation and never telling another house the password, or the location of the common room. It was an unspoken rule that no one other than slytherins was allowed inside.  

 

The seemingly blank wall of stone transformed into a tall archway, leading into a short hallway once the password was spoken, ‘dragon scales’. The common room was lit with green lamps and the serene glow from the green-blue water of the lake, which you could see through the windows. Fish and sea serpents glided past the glass, and Harry turned to take in the rest of the room. Black leather chesterfields and arm chairs were placed around the elegant room, the floor a black marble and cut into different heights, some couches circled in a space a few stairs down, some on elevated stages. The fireplace lights the room, the mantle covered in various silver weapons and crowns. 

 

The prefects lead the first years to their respective dormitories, a total of five boys sharing the room whilst the girls split for a separate hallway. The dorm is fairly spacious, cut in a rectangle with one wall lined with windows and desks, the other with five four-poster beds hun in green curtains. The furniture and floor are all made of dark wood, and a door to the left leading into a bathroom. 

 

Harry claims the furthest bed, Draco taking the one next to him and Blaise the middle. Vincent and Greg squabble over who gets the one closest to the door, while Harry opens his trunk to find that Ikarus is still safely in the protective bubble Severus enchanted before sending Harry with Narcissa. The snake curls around Harry’s arm, telling him all about the journey over quietly while the other boys settle in. Beside each bed is a nightstand, furnished with a lamp and two shallow drawers. Harry casts a quick heating charm, something Severus taught him, before setting Ikarus on the warm section of bed. The snake basked in the heat, and Harry turned to get his other things out before exploring into the bathroom. 

 

Three heavy, wide wooden doors line the end of the room, five thinner ones on the right wall facing the long mirror. The long white tiled counter is split vaguely into five sections, bath and hand towels folded underneath the mirror next to five sinks furnished with hand soap. The three wide doors, Harry realized once he glanced inside, were individual showers about six feet wide and long. The thinner ones were private toilets.  

 

Draco called Harry from the bathroom, saying that the Head of House wished to speak with all of the first years. 

 

Walking with the other boys, they reach the common room now crowded with the older students, and Harry spots Severus standing in front of the fireplace, the first year girls already before him. Taking a sat, Harry waits for Severus to begin his speech. 

 

“Slytherin is a proud house, and a familial one. I am sure many of your parents were sorted here as well. The reputation of Slytherin house is a dark one, something I am sure you have gathered thus far. I will not tolerate any blood slurs outside of this common room, nor any trouble making of any kind unless a witness can attest to another student of another house starting the argument. The Slytherin house has won the House cup six years running, I would like to keep it in this common room for another year. Do take care not to get into trouble, it requires far too much paperwork. I will hand out your timetables in the morning, have a good evening.” Severus finishes, and Harry stands with the others, excited to sleep in his new bed. 

 

“First year boys, I would like a word with Mr. Potter and Mr, Malfoy, please stay in the common room for another moment.” Severus says, and I follow Draco back to the dorms aware of Severus trailing behind me. 

  
  


Shutting the door, Severus turns to the boys and asks which bed is Harry’s. After finding the bed and Ikarus, Severus begins to transfigure some heated branches dotted with leaves along the roof and posters for the snake to explore. 

 

“I am here to first congratulate both of you on your taste in houses, as well as inquire why you were in pain during the feast, Harry.” he prompts, and Harry describes the pain and what he was looking at and hearing when it happened. 

 

“Professor, do you think someone hexed him?” Draco asks worriedly. 

 

“No, hexes work differently, Believe me when I say I know many hexes, and none of them act this way. I think that this is something else.” Severus says, looking deep in thought. He bids them goodnight after a bit more speculation, and Draco runs to ask him something before he leaves, making Harry feel like they are talking about him. 

  
However, before he can fret any longer, his head hits the pillow and he falls asleep hissing a soft goodnight to Ikarus.  


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the first Potions class to the Broomstick incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a quote from the book because it's truly amazing. The others are kind of quotes, but not directly, but the quote is followed by (JK Rowling). Enjoy!

The first classes go by in a whirlwind of rules and syllabuses. Most of the classes Slytherins shared with the Ravenclaws, but Defense against the Dark Arts and Potions would be shared with Gryffindors. Harry was particularly excited for these classes, even if it meant facing Ron. He was also looking forward to the weekend, he and Draco made plans to explore the castle some more. 

 

Blaise is pretty funny, if a little quiet. He doesn’t say much about his home life, and neither does Harry so they get on pretty well. Vincent and Greg are about as bright as Draco said they were, and they mostly keep to each other. The girls are all okay, Pansy is funny and Harry finds that he enjoys her company, especially in boring classes. Daphne Greengrass is nice enough, but she is a bit boy crazy. 

 

On Friday Harry wakes up early, as per usual. Draco would sleep in until noon if the choice was his, but Harry wakes him up about an hour before classes so that he can get his hair in order. The shower schedule runs smoothly enough, Harry and Blaise each shower in the morning, Draco in the evening and Vincent and Greg shower whenever they feel like it (or when the others complain enough about the smell). 

 

Choosing the leftmost shower for himself, Harry spends a good twenty minutes getting clean. How different these showers are from the Dursley’s, the twenty minutes stretching and seeming to last much longer than the breaks when he was being punished. When he steps out of the shower, Blaise has begun his in the stall over, and Harry runs a comb through his hair attempting to tame the curly locks. Sighing as the stubborn calics spring back into place for the third time, he set the brush down and brushed his teeth instead. 

 

After pulling some pants and trousers on, Harry studies his newly healed skin, devoid of the blues and purples shrouded in yellows and greens that usually litter his abdomen and back. The bruises are all gone, however the lines crisscrossing his back cannot be healed so easily, the scars standing out against his pale skin. 

 

The second day at Hogwarts, Severus had called Harry into his office and told him that Draco had expressed concern about his bruises and scars the night before when he ran after him. Harry finally consented to showing Severus his injuries long enough for him to heal them, and promptly tried to ignore the sharp intake of breath, and the shaking hand tracing the scars across his back. Severus apologized for not being able to heal the scars, he explained that Ms. Pomfrey would be able to heal them, but Harry refused, wanting to avoid further questions. 

 

Harry pulled on a white button down shirt, doing the buttons up quickly before snagging his Slytherin tie and walking over to wake Draco. The blond sleeps with his curtains firmly drawn, so Harry hears the familiar groan as the curtains are pulled back to allow light into his little cave. 

 

Plopping down on top of the boy, as Harry does every morning, he relaxes so that Draco feels his full body weight. 

 

“Geroff you prat.” Draco mumbles, trying to burrow further under his pillow. 

 

“Nope, you have to wake up.” Harry says in a sing song voice, once again trying to make himself heavier to wake Draco up. 

 

“You know that your weight does nothing to wake me up, you’ve the density of a blanket.” Draco quips, and Harry grins. This is the routine, after all. Name calling turns into sarcastic remarks and soon Draco will try to cuddle up to Harry in efforts to convince him that Draco should be allowed back to sleep. 

 

Draco rolls so that Harry lands beside him with a soft ‘oof’, Draco wrapping around him like Ikarus, and Harry rolls his eyes at the boy’s antics. 

 

“Draco.” He says.

“Hm.” 

 

“How old are you?”

 

“You know how old I am prat.”

 

“Then why do you act like a toddler every time I try to wake you up?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

“Maybe I’ll stop waking you up, then. It can be all your responsibility.” Harry taunts, knowing his words carry no real meaning. However, they seem to do the trick as Draco hops up with a quick ‘no’, making a show of how awake he is before disappearing into the bathroom to begin the process of his hair.

 

Harry stays lying down, tying the tie around his neck as he calls Ikarus over. The boys in the dorm were all as shocked as Draco to find that not only did they have to live with a snake, but a Parselmouth. Blaise simply joked that Harry was no more dark than a fairy princess, seeing as he trips on his own two feet every few steps and sings in the shower. 

 

Ikarus coils snugly around Harry’s stomach, and Harry finds that when the snake is over his stomach he looks to be of average weight for once. 

 

Severus made a point to Harry about how, while the snake was approved for the dormitory, when Harry carried him around to classes it would be best if nobody knew of the poisonous snake’s presence.  

 

Following the others down to breakfast, Harry and Draco share their excitement for their classes of the day. Leaving breakfast early, they collect their cauldrons and supplies for Potions before making their way to the classroom. 

 

“Don’t call Professor Snape Severus, Harry. He’d eat you alive, even if you are his kid.” Draco says. 

 

Harry finds a stupid grin on his face at the implication that he has a  _ family,  _ when the Gryffindors show up. 

 

“Why is this class down in the dungeons, it smells like dirty  _ Slytherins  _ down here!” A loud voice calls, and Harry sighs as a head of flaming red hair turns the corner, leading a few other Gryffindor boys and girls. 

Spotting Harry, Ron scowls. 

 

“I can’t believe we have to have class with the likes of you.” He says to Harry, and Harry ignores his quips naturally, having grown up with the Dursley’s. 

 

“Are you deaf?” Ron asks, and the boys next to him laugh. 

 

“Potter, I’m talking to you. Hey! Answer me!” Ron starts towards Harry, his arms reaching to shove him, when a cold voice slices through the air. Harry inwardly sighs in relief as Severus sweeps into the hall, his glare focused on Ron. 

 

“Twenty points from Gryffindor. Inside, now.” Severus snaps, and Harry being closest to the door aside from Ron leads the class inside. Taking the seat farthest to the right, Harry sets his things down as Draco does the same next to him, the Slytherins choosing to sit behind them with the Gryffindors on the other side. 

 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren’t as big of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” (JK Rowling) Severus says, and Harry sits up straighter. The way Severus describes potions makes the class seem even more interesting than before.  

 

“Weasley! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Severus snaps suddenly, and Harry looks over to see Ron jump in surprise, the bushy haired girl next to him jumping in her seat with her hand raised. 

 

“I- I don’t know sir.” he says, and Harry feels a twinge of pity for him knowing that Severus won’t be letting him off that easily. 

 

“Potter?”

 

“The Draught of Living Death, sir.” Harry answers. Wait, was it the draught of the undead?

 

“Correct.” Harry sags in relief. 

 

“Weasley, let’s try again. Where would I find a bezoar?” Severus asks. This one was simple, Harry thought. The answer was so odd, he remembered it easily. 

 

“The storage cabinet, sir?” Ron tries, and Harry feels that same twinge of pity for the boy. As horrid as he had been, he’d already lost twenty points, after all he hadn’t done anything wrong exactly. Harry was an easy target, that’s his own fault, not Ron’s.  

 

“The stomach of a goat, sir.” Harry says, once Severus looks to him.

 

“Yes. An antidote to most, but not all poisons. For example, it cannot prevent the venom of a Black Mamba spreading.” Severus says, and Harry finds the smirk in what looks like a scowl to the rest. 

 

“What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Severus asks, this time not even bothering to address Ron.

 

“Aren’t they the same thing, sir?” Harry asks, confused. Severus nods. 

 

“Yes. They are also known as aconite. Ten points to Slytherin, five from Gryffindor for the obvious difference in which house bothered to open a book before class.” Severus dives into the lesson, and Harry finds that he is excited to brew the potion they took notes for, looking forward to next class. Severus explains that for the first few weeks, they would be alternating between notes and brewing days, but eventually they would do both in one class. 

 

Walking out of the class with Draco, Harry feels dread well in his stomach as Ron follows him, waiting to be out of the earshot of Snape before saying anything. 

 

“I bet you cheated, seems like a Slytherin thing to do.” Ron growls. 

  
“Your twin older brothers are in Slytherin, idiot.” Draco drawls, and Ron turns to him, face red.    
“They’re different. They aren’t dark, like your parents.” Ron growls, and Harry feels a surge of anger. He could handle barbs aimed at him, but Draco hadn’t done anything. 

 

“Knock it off Weasley. You were fine with me on the train, practically tried to drag me into your group. Quit acting like a rejected puppy.” Harry says, and he grabs Draco’s wrist steering them towards the great hall before Ron can retort.  

 

The Defense class goes by without any more bickering, though Harry finds that he is uncomfortable with the professor who doesn’t strike Harry to be as nervous as he seems.

 

The weekend passes far too quickly, and Harry slowly gets used to writing with quills on parchment rather than notebook paper. The homework load is manageable enough, especially if one is friends with Draco who strives to do more than the required amount and seems to hold the same expectation for Harry. 

 

Harry finds that he is just as excited as he is nervous for the broomstick riding class, even if they have to share it with the lions. 

Madam Hooch instructs the students through picking their broom up with a command, and properly mounting them. A dark haired and nervous boy named Neville accidentally loses control of his broom, and falls from about thirty feet high, the cracking of a bone announcing his meeting with the ground. Madam Hooch threatens the students with expulsion if they fly without supervision, and Harry walks over to the bushy haired girl from Gryffindor. She seems nice enough, if a bit brainy. She was closer to Neville when he fell, harry wanted to see if it was his arm or leg that broke. 

 

“His name is Neville, right?” Harry asks, and she looks over at him, startled.

“Yes.” she says, and before he can ask if she thinks he will be alright Ron storms over. 

“What did you do?” he demands, and Harry looks back at him confused. 

 

“Ron, he didn’t hex Neville.” Hermione, the  bushy haired girl says. 

 

“Hm. If Neville weren’t such a hopeless Hufflepuff I’d probably argue more.” Ron sneers. Harry clenches his fists, but before he can retort Ron’s snatched something up from the spot that Neville fell. 

 

“Look! Neville’s lost his Remembrall.” Ron laughs, and Harry moves forward. 

 

“Give it here, Ron. I’ll take it to Neville.” 

 

“Like hell you will, I think I’ll just put it somewhere safe instead.” Ron laughs, before mounting his broom and shooting off until he hoves about fifty feet in the air. Considering his options, harry decides that there are enough witnesses to attest that Ron started it, and so he mounts his broom and follows him. 

 

Startled, Ron turns and rises another fifty feet into the air, aiming for one of the towers, and Harry watches as the idiot drops the glass ball. 

 

Turning into a dive, Harry relishes in the weightless feeling in his stomach, the wind rushing against his face. Taking one hand off of the broomstick, Harry reaches out for the tiny glass ball, catching it seconds before it shatters on the ground, and pulling up hard on the broomstick to slow to a stop. Looking up, his cheeks flushed and hair windblown Harry’s excited eyes land on the window he stopped right in front of, the disapproving stare of severus staring back at him. 

 

By the time Harry lands back with the group, where Ron stands innocently not even holding a broom, Severus is already there with his arms folded. 

 

Scowling down at Harry, he turns wordlessly without checking to see if Harry would follow. He must be really mad, even Harry could not see the secret light in his eyes or a trace of a smirk. 

 

“I am sorry, sir, I made sure that I had witnesses. I was saving Neville’s possession, I don’t think they can solely target your house-” Harry rambles, and Severus turns sharply to face him. 

 

“I don’t give a damn about house points! What if you had fallen? Gotten hurt?” Severus demands. Harry blanks. 

 

“It would have been my own fault, sir. I would have just dealt with it. Learned my lesson and all.” Harry says confusedly. Severus studies him for a moment. 

 

“That is not how punishment works Harry. Corporal punishment is not tolerated here, and I do not believe  in such a thing. As much as it pains me to do so, I am rewarding your rash behavior in a way. Have you heard of Quidditch?” 

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is made seeker, challenged to a duel, met with a unique canine and overpowers a troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit happens in this chapter. If I am moving too fast or too slow, please let me know. I never know how much detail is too much. Enjoy!

Harry relays the information of his new quidditch status to Draco and Pansy the next day, and they both explain the rules or the game to him, excited to see him play over the year. Pansy remarks about how scary she finds flying, and Draco teases her before offering to take Harry to the broomshed over the weekend to practise. 

 

Once the three finish breakfast, they stand and begin to walk from the hall towards the charms classroom for their lesson. Before they can make it to the staircase, however, a furious red head blocks their path.

 

“I’ve heard about Snape. You Slytherins are such cheats, I bet you bribed your way onto the team!” Ron says, and Harry clenches his jaw. He really would rather continue in the happy bubble the three had maintained since the news, but Ron seemed intent on bursting it. Draco and Pansy move forward, ready to retort, but Harry stops them with a sharp look saying  _ let me handle this. _

 

“I didn’t bribe-”

 

“After all, who would want you on their team? Your friends only like you because of your dead parents. That’s it, isn’t it? Snape feels pity for you because you’re an orphan.” Ron laughs, and Harry takes a moment to unclench his hand from his wand, reminding himself that people like Ron would get theirs eventually. 

Ron notices the movement, however, and laughs once more. 

 

“You want to duel, Potter? Fine, meet me in the trophy room after curfew, and we’ll have a proper wizard’s duel to settle this.” Ron says, moving away before Mcgonagall can chide him on blocking the staircase. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Harry starts for the Charms room, suddenly nervous for the prospect of having to duel Ron. Harry was clearly at a disadvantage, having not been raised in a wizarding home. Draco and Pansy try to convince him not to follow through with this, but once they give in to his stubborn decision they consent to helping him. 

 

The next few classes pass by dizzyingly fast, as Harry imagines every awful possible ending to the duel. Just as he is picturing Draco peeling him from the floor as some gooey paste, Draco taps his shoulder, nodding towards the clock. The common room had emptied about twenty minutes before, and Harry nodded as they waited for Pansy to join them. Once she did, they slipped into the hall, silently making their way to the trophy room at a slower pace than usual, due to their attempts to quiet their footsteps.

 

Opening the heavy door to the trophy room, Harry slips inside with the other two, looking around nervously. The Gryffindor common room was much closer to this room, either Ron got lost or they were being stood up. 

 

After waiting another twenty minutes, it was clear that Ron had been bluffing. Ignoring the small feeling of relief in his chest, Harry follows Draco about halfway down the staircase when the caretaker’s cat trots over to them. Her curious eyes trained on them, before she opened her mouth letting out an impossibly loud mewl calling Filch to the children. 

Harry’s heart pounds as the three frantically run back up the staircase, running to the first door they find which Draco unlocks with a quick spell. They lean back against the door, breathing laboured as they try to see in the pitch black room. 

 

Remembering a spell Severus had once cast, Harry tries to mimic the wand movement he had done. 

 

“Lumos.” After a few tries, a small blue light lit the room, and Harry nearly screamed in fright. 

 

The monster standing before them snapped it’s heads, yes,  _ heads,  _ menacingly as it tried to move past the shallow berth of its chains. The heads were canine like, but the body was far too muscly and large to belong to a dog. Searching frantically for the doorknob, the three practically fall out of the room before slamming the door shut. 

 

They manage to avoid Filch all the way back to the common room, and before they can even catch their breath Pansy is reprimanding the boys for getting her into this mess. Harry doesn’t even have the energy to apologize, instead he makes his way to his bad and falls onto it, halfheartedly hissing to Ikarus before falling into a deep sleep. 

 

The trio decide to talk to Hagrid, the groundskeeper, during lunch the next day. If anybody, save form the headmaster, would know why a three headed dog was on the grounds it would be Hagrid. 

 

Walking the fair distance from the castle doors down to the wooden shack that Blaise had pointed out as Hagrid’s, Pansy complains about having to walk so far and in the mud while Draco and Harry try to come up with a discreet way of bringing up the monster. Pansy rolls her eyes at them before knocking hard on the huge wooden door, stepping back at the series of loud barks that begun promptly from the cabin. 

 

Feeling an irrational wave of fear at the idea that the monster was in there, Harry smiles up at Hagrid once he’d cracked the door open. 

 

“Harry!” Hagrid bellows, as if they’d been friends for years. 

 

“C’min, I was jus brewin’ a fresh pot o tea. I was wonderin’ when you’d come down ter visit, yer parents used ta visit all the time!” Hagrid continues in his jovial tone, and Harry grins at the infectious happiness. 

 

“Sorry, I would have visited sooner had I known you wanted to see me.” Harry says, and Hagrid waves him off, pouring tea and pulling out some cakes that looked suspiciously like rocks. The source of the barking, Harry soon realized, came from the huge boarhound that excitedly circles the students, sniffing and drooling all over their robes delightedly. 

 

“Back, Fang, c’mon. Well, what brings you three down ‘ere?” Hagrid asks, looking curiously at Draco and Pansy. Harry hurries to introduce them, and Pansy grins as she pets Fang, the dog immediately taking a liking to her.  

 

“We actually had a question, sir.” Draco says tentatively, once all of the pleasantries and mindless chatter had passed. Harry sits up straighter in anticipation, Pansy’s hand petting Fang faltering briefly. 

 

Hagrid nods, and Draco shares a look with the other two before continuing.

 

“Well, we were exploring recently, happened on it by accident, couldn’t be blamed for it really.” Draco blabbers, clearly nervous. Pansy interrupts, her gaze never leaving Hagrid. 

 

“Why is there a three headed dog on the third floor and what is it guarding?” she rushes out, and Harry looks at her in surprise, he hadn’t noticed that it was guarding anything. By the looks of it, neither had Draco. 

 

“How d’ you know abou’ Fluffy?” Hagrid demands, and Harry decides to speak up.

 

“So you do know about him. Why would he be at a school, Hagrid?” he asks, composing his voice to sound concerned for his safety rather than curiosity. 

 

“Fluffy’s harmless, just play ‘im a bit o music is all and he’s like putty in yer hands.” Hagrid huffs, before his eyes widen marginally. 

 

“I should not have said tha’. I should not have said tha’.” he mutters, before making an excuse and shooing them from his cabin, although he does invite them back for tea sometime soon. As they leave the cabin, Harry could have sworn he saw a shadow duck behind the hut and around the back, but at Pansy’s demands to get back in time for lunch he decides to leave it. 

 

The Halloween Feast seems to be all the boys can talk about, particularly Vince and Greg, but Pansy is focused instead on the party in the Slytherin Common Room. 

 

Pansy explains that only Slytherin House has this tradition, and that since potions would be the next day Severus would go easy on them.

 

Walking with Draco and Pansy towards the Great Hall, Pansy insists that they stop at the girl’s lavatory first. After waiting with Draco for ten minutes, Harry knocks on the door, pushing it open a crack. 

 

“Pansy?” he calls out. 

 

“I’m busy, just go to the feast. Trust me.” she calls back, and Harry shrugs relaying the information to Draco. 

 

The Great Hall is decorated in floating pumpkins dotting the candles, the enchanted ceiling showing a bright full moon as little black bats dart around. The tables groan and creak underneath the weight of the food, different meats and treats decorated in various halloween themes filling the wood. Stuffing his face full of pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin juice and many candies from the table, Harry feels sleepy and lazy when the doors open with a bang. Jumping, he looks over to see Professor Quirrell sprinting as fast as his legs can carry him, as though a demon were on his trail.  

 

“Troll! In the dungeons! Troll in the dungeons!” Quirrell shouts, running down the space between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. His face is pale, his robes disheveled and his turban about to fall off.  

 

“Just thought you ought to know.” he says, quieter, before slumping to the floor. 

 

Turning to Draco, panicked and wondering if there even is such a thing, Harry’s questions get cut off as Dumbledore stands and yells for silence, overpowering the screaming children. Pale and terror stricken faces turn to him, looking for an answer as to what they should do next.

 

“Prefects and Head of Houses, please take your students to the dormitories, then meet me and the rest of the staff here.” he says, before turning to speak hurriedly with some of the teachers as every student rushes to be the first to safety, flooding the gaps between the tables. Turning to Draco, Harry pulls the blond to the side, away from the flow of kids. 

 

“What about Pansy?” he half-shouts, so that Draco can hear him. Draco’s eyes widen slightly before he realizes that Harry isn’t joking. With a heavy sigh, he links hands with Harry and pulls him back into the crowd walking towards the door. Harry tries to pull away, but Draco holds firm. 

 

“We’re going to get her, don’t worry.” he says, and Harry stops resisting. Once they make it past the bottleneck at the door, they follow the slightly smaller crowd of Slytherins complaining that the  _ troll  _ is in the dungeons. Slowing down once they near the fork in the hallway that leads either to the bathrooms or the common room, they make sure that nobody is watching them before darting for the first. Running towards the stone door, they slow to a stop a few feet away from the end of the hall, where a massive shadow is moving just around the corner, heavy breathing and grunts audible once their footsteps stop. Sharing a terrified look, they practically fall into the girl’s lavatory running face to face with a rumpled looking Pansy and a teary eyed Hermione. 

 

Pansy begins to speak, but Harry shakes his head frantically, holding a finger to his lips. Pushing the girls further into the bathroom and closer to the stalls, Harry begins to explain in a whisper when the wall next to them explodes in a cloud of stone and rubble. Screaming, Hermione and Pansy run towards the sinks while the boys duck under the stalls. A large, misshapen head pokes through the newly formed hole in the wall, yellow teeth the size of bricks pulled into a snarl when the troll sees the children. 

 

The hulking creature lifts it’s heavy wooden club one more, and Harry just manages to crawl under his stall wall and into Draco’s when the club lands heavily where he had been standing. Gasping in pain from his leg, which hadn’t made it into the other stall yet, Harry doesn’t dare look at his injury while he hurriedly pushes Draco from the stalls before they are crushed. Rushing to join the girls at the sink, they try to dance around the club, getting soaked with water once a sink is ripped off of the wall. 

 

The troll’s skin seems to be too thick for most spells to penetrate it, and so Harry tries to find another way to stop the beast. He eyes the creatures club, and decides that it’s the only decent weapon at their disposal. 

Pointing his wand at the club, raised to strike Draco, he shouts “Wingardium Leviosa!” The club hovers just a foot over the troll’s head, his arms now searching the air around him in confusion, before the heavy wood drops onto his head with a loud crack. 

 

Swaying, the troll thankfully falls backwards away from them, his landing seeming to shake the castle. Running over to the others, Harry frantically searches them for injuries. 

 

Hermione, Pansy and Draco watch him in horror as he asks if they are okay, and finally Hermione speaks. 

 

“Harry, you’re bleeding!” she says, and Harry looks at her, confused, before looking back at his leg. 

 

“It’s fine, the club just scratched me when he tried to get the stalls. Are you guys hurt?” Harry asks, and they all shake their heads no before a crowd of teachers runs into the room through the ominous gaping hole in the wall, looking first to the troll and then to the four students dripping wet, and in Harry’s case, bloody.  

 

The three teachers in the front, Dumbledore, Mcgonagall and Severus all rush the students, while the rest of the staff set to work removing the troll. 

 

Mcgonagall takes Hermione to her house, as she hadn’t sustained any injuries. Severus asked Dumbledore to take Draco and Pansy to the Slytherin common room, as they were newly healed of their minor scratches. 

 

Harry refuses to meet Severus’ burning gaze as they slowly make their way into the hall. 

 

“Stand still, I will conjure a stretcher.” Severus says. Harry complies, albeit unhappily, and sits on the stretcher which is levitated about three feet into the hair once he has a good grip. 

 

The walk towards the Hospital Wing is tense and silent, save for Severus’s footsteps. Harry mentally prepares for his scolding, and after a minute of preparation he finally turns to speak. 

 

“I’m sorry.” he says tentatively, the words tasting foreign in his mouth. For once, his apology was sincere. Severus looks over to him, and does something Harry never would have expected. Severus laughs, an odd strangled laugh that makes Harry want to laugh as well but also makes him uncomfortable at not being in on the joke. 

 

Before he can ask any questions, Severus’ arms are around him, and he returns the hug after a moment, confused at the random sign of affection when he should be in trouble. 

 

“You daft, idiot boy.” Severus says, but the terms are like an endearment coming from him. 

 

“It’s okay, really sir. I’m not badly hurt.” Harry reassures, and Severus rolls his eyes before opening the door to the Hospital wing.   

 

“Wait until Poppy sees you.” he mutters, and Harry is soon swamped with questions, potions and salves and diagnostic spells that make him feel odd. He waits for them to tell him that he’s fine, just a big misunderstanding, but the words never come. Poppy, or Madam Pomfrey as she introduced herself, shares a worried look with Severus before turning back to Harry. 

 

“Mr. Potter, this is no scratch. Troll clubs are laced with magic, I am afraid you will have to stay overnight and take some potions in order for the wound to begin to seal and recover. While this club was not poisonous, it has a rather nasty purpose instead, preventing the wound from healing without powerful potions.” she explains, and Harry sighs. Figures. 

 

Once Harry had swallowed all of the revolting colorful potions, he began to feel drowsy and talkative. Severus had told Poppy that he would be staying a while longer, and she bid him a goodnight before heading back to her chambers branching off of the infirmary.  

 

Rolling over to see Severus, who had taken to reading a thick book, Harry feels his walls breaking down without his permission, sleep and pain killing potion destroying any filter between his brain and his mouth.

 

“Did you know Fluffy is on the third floor? That’s why we can’t go there. But Hagrid said we just have to play music and it’ll fall asleep. Pansy said it’s guarding something, do you know what it is?” he babbles, and Severus meets his eyes with a sharp gaze. 

 

“When Hagrid told you this, was there anyone around? At all?” he asks urgently, ignoring his other questions. 

  
“There was a weird shadow but Pansy wanted lunch so I couldn’t check.” Harry yawned. He did not hear Severus’ quick apology and farewell before he departed for the third floor.  


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out more about Quirrell, Ron messes everything up and Pansy/ Hermione are becoming friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there are some homophobic comments, please know that I don't agree with any of them and that they will be there. If you need, just skip from Ron's first comment to Mcgonagall's rant. Enjoy!

Harry POV

 

I wake up slowly, the warmth of my bed seeming stiff, the light oddly bright. Turning to shove my face further into the pillows, I hiss tiredly for Ikarus. After a few minutes with no reply, I try again. When the snake does not answer, I look up grumpily, my eyes meeting a high stone ceiling rather than dark branches. 

 

Oh, right. The Hospital Wing. Sitting up, I quickly mentally check over my body, feeling a bit stiff and very hungry but perfectly fine otherwise. My leg itches a bit, but when I rip back the covers, there isn’t a scratch there. Tentatively standing, I grin when I find that everything works perfectly, and I decide to just go back to the Great Hall and see if there's any breakfast left. Just as I reach the door, however, it swings open nearly crushing me with the force. 

 

Draco and Pansy, and surprisingly Hermione, all rush forward, crushing my abdomen in what seems to be a hug but is made awkward by the amount of limbs. Laughing, I slowly peel them off of me and ask if they’re alright, and how much trouble we’re in. 

 

“None, really. We have one detention as soon as you’re better, but at least we’re all together for it.” Pansy explains, her voice excited as we make our way down to the Hall. I complain about my grumbling stomach the entire way there, while Draco whines that since I wasn’t in the dorms, Ikarus curled around his stomach instead in search of a warm body. 

 

“He does that even when I am in the dorms, you’re his favorite.” I laugh. Draco shrugs, perking up once we reach the  Great Hall. As I eat my breakfast, I feel a burning gaze on me, and I look up to find Severus glaring at me, and more curiously Quirrell glaring just as hard. Swallowing my food thickly, I try to focus on my friends and not the stares boring into my back. 

 

I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder, and look up in surprise at Quirrell, his smile friendly but his eyes anything but. 

 

“Mr. P-Potter. Congr-r-ratulations on y-your def-feat of the t-t-troll!” he stutters, and I force a smile onto my face as his hand grips my shoulder painfully. 

 

“Thank you sir.” I say, unsure what he wants. Before I have to make anymore conversation, however, Severus limps over, nursing his left leg and glaring vehemently at Quirrell. I am shocked that he doesn’t recoil from Severus’ gaze, it isn’t even focused on me and I’m nervous. 

 

I narrow my eyes at Severus’ obvious injury, but I know better than to bring up such a thing in front of so many people. 

 

“Professor, I wish to speak with Mr. Potter if you would so kindly stop crushing his shoulder.” Severus drawls, and Quirrell glares, slowly removing his hand from my shoulder. 

 

“Of course, Professor Snape.” he quips, before turning and rushing off, his voice not stuttering in the least. 

 

“Mr. Potter, if you and your friends would join me in my office, I will send a pass to excuse you from your tardiness to first class.” he says, and I stand to follow him, Draco and Pansy doing the same. 

 

Severus uses his wand to conjure some tea, sitting down behind his desk and motioning for us three to sit before him. 

 

“Why are you hurt?” I ask immediately, and he looks at me with mild irritation and slight amusement. 

 

“Why have you left the Hospital Wing hours after being poisoned?” he shoots back, ignoring the startled gasps from Draco and Pansy. 

 

“I’m not the one limping like an invalid.” I quip, and his responding scowl may as well be a grin. 

 

“Brat.” he says, and I laugh. 

 

“If you must know, it was that damned dog Hagrid loves. The less popular one.” he supplies at our confused looks, unsure if he meant Fang or Fluffy. 

 

“Why were you anywhere near it?” I ask, and he simply raises an eyebrow.

 

“Why do you think I would tell you?” 

 

“Because I’m the one who told you about it.”

 

“Yes, and I am doing quite enough in repayment by not inquiring how you three know about it.” he says, and I sigh, dejected. He was right. 

 

“Sir, I think that Professor Quirrell is up to something.” Pansy interjects nervously. Snape looks to her. 

 

“Yes, I am afraid I suspect the same Ms. Parkinson. May I ask why you think this?” Severus asks carefully. 

 

“Well, he was outside Hagrid’s cabin when we were asking about Fluffy, and he is the Defense teacher. Why was he so scared of the troll? And then that whole episode in the Great Hall.” she lists, and I feel stupid for not have noticing all of these before. 

 

Severus is about to reply when the door to his office slams open, Marcus Flint storming in. 

 

“Professor, they’ve moved the match. Slytherin versus Gryffindor this bloody weekend, rather than next. We need to train, we need the field every day this week. I need to do this quick before Mcgonagall snags it.” he rushes out. Severus gives him a sour look. 

 

“Yes, I will reserve the field everyday this week. On the condition that you never barge into my office like this again.” he says, before waving him away. 

 

Wait, that means I’ll have practice every night, but I’ll have to use a school broom! I was going to order one this weekend, Slytherin won’t stand a chance!

 

As I mull this over, Severus tells Pansy not to worry about it, he would deal with Quirrell. 

 

“I will sign you three passes for half an hour from now, I assume Harry needs to shower and you three need to talk.” Severus smiles, and we thank him, shutting the door behind us. 

 

Turning to Pansy, I decide to question her further. 

 

“What do you think all of this means? The dog, whatever its guarding, Quirrell? I’m sure it’s all connected, it's too weird not to be.” I say, and she just shakes her head.

 

“We’ll have to visit Hagrid tonight, get more out of him.” she says, and I nod. 

 

Walking to the dorms, I shower quickly, Draco and Pansy talking quietly in the boy’s dorms. I pull on some pants and trousers before walking out, rummaging through my trunk for a shirt. The hospital clothes are stiff and scratchy, an air of clinical sterility clinging to the fabric. I am happy to throw them out. 

 

I hear a startled gasp from behind me, and I turn panicked, worried that Ikarus has hurt one of them. When I see the snake calmly coiled around Draco’s arm, my brow furrows in confusion. 

 

“What?” I ask, their expressions unnerving me further. Draco looks apologetic, and Pansy looks horrified. 

 

“H-Harry. Your back.” She says, uncertain. My face drains of color. Shit, I should have gotten fully dressed, I’m so thick, I shouldn’t have let her seen. 

 

“It’s nothing. I got into fights a lot, is all.” I say, and her expression hardens. 

 

“Just how thick do I look, Potter? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this?” Her voice starts out strong, growing quieter towards the end. 

 

“You don’t even know what ‘this’ is, Pans. You just think you do. I’m sorry, I don’t like to talk about it because then you’ll look at me like that. All pityingly. I just want to be treated normal. Please.” I add, hoping that she would leave it. She considers, giving a stiff nod even though her eyes promise a later discussion. 

 

By the time I’m dressed and I’ve convinced Ikarus to coil around my belly and not Draco, the first class, Defense is already half over. The Gryffindors snicker as we make our way over to the Slytherin seats, Quirrell stopping his spiel long enough to glare at us. 

 

I try to pay attention, I really do. Looking around the room, trying to focus on Quirrell’s lesson, I spot a stack of old  _ Daily Prophet's  _ sitting behind the teacher’s desk. Looking closer, all four seem to be the same copy, from way back in September if the flashing back to school ads were anything to go by. 

 

Curious, I make sure that Quirrell is focused on the off lizard in his arms before pointing my wand to the paper on top. “Wingardium leviosa.” I whisper, my eyes switching between the slowly moving paper and the rest of the class to ensure that I’m not caught. Draco looks over for a moment, but simply rolls his eyes and turns back to the lesson. 

 

Looking through the Prophet, I silently hope I don’t have to read the entire thing to find what's so special about it, but instead I find something curious. The headlining story is cut out, even the title and photo clip. Scanning the class, I hover the next over and find it in the same condition, as well as the other two. 

 

Mentally bookmarking the date, September 1, I carefully replace the papers seconds before the dismissal bell rings. 

 

Rushing out with Pansy and Draco in tow, I relay the odd information and they agree to meet me back in the great hall once I’ve borrowed a copy of the same paper from the library. 

 

Trekking up the many staircases, I eventually reach the large stone archway and walk in quietly, striding over to the main desk where the sour librarian, Ms. Pince sat. 

 

“Excuse me.” I say, and she hisses out a low ‘shhh’, before moving closer. 

 

“Um, I was wondering if you had a copy of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ from September 1?” I ask timidly, making sure to lower my voice.  

 

“Third aisle, four down.” she mutters, moving back to the thick pile of books stacked precariously on her desk without another word. Rushing off with a quiet ‘thank you’, which receives another ‘shh’, I make my way towards the section.

Scanning through the piles of Prophets from everyday since August, I finally find the one I’m looking for. The headline stands out, I remember asking Severus about it when it arrived, how could I forget? The story that Quirrell had cut out was about the vault in Gringotts that was broken into just hours after they’d left, the goblin being quoted saying that it had been emptied hours prior. 

 

Standing in a rush to tell this new information to Pansy and Draco, I nearly fall back when I run into someone standing just beside me. 

 

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was- Hermione?” I ask, puzzled. Her face flushes, and she finally decides to speak. 

 

“Could you please give this to Pansy when you see her?” She asks, and I nod bemused as she hands me a small folded piece of parchment. She nods her head when I ask her to walk down to the Great Hall with me for lunch, and we chat about the impending quidditch game and our classes. She seems to be quite witty and funny when she was comfortable, no wonder Pansy was her friend. 

 

We part ways at the door, and I remember the rush I was in to tell the the others my news. Plopping down in between the bickering pair, cutting Pansy off mid chide I simply grin at Draco’s indignant squeak and bump his shoulder with mine. 

 

“So, wanna hear what I found out?” I say mischievously, and they forget about their previous squabble while I speak.  

 

“Odd. And Snape wouldn't tell you what was in it?” Pansy asks, and I shake my head no as I chew my food. 

 

“Oh! Pans, Hermione wanted me to give you this.” He remembers, handing over the small bit of parchment. She blushes slightly, thanking him before shoving it away in her robes. Sharing a smirk with Draco, Harry decides to ask about her odd behavior later. 

 

“We’ve potions next, I hate the schedule rotation.” I whine. 

 

“I liked Potions in the morning.” 

 

“You like potions all the time.” Draco shoots back. 

 

“Prat.”

 

“Git.”

 

“Ponce.”

 

“Wanker.”

 

“Twat.”

 

“Gentlemen!” the scandalized voice of Mcgonagall breaks through our bickering, and I feel my face heat up as she takes five points each. 

 

Draco giggles, and I find myself focusing on the sound long after it’s passed, my stomach squirming. Odd. 

 

Just as we are about to round the corner to the Potions hallway, I fling an arm out to stop them. Holding a finger to my lips, I listen as Ron and his Gryffindor mates speak around the corner.

 

“-up to something!” Ron says.

 

“Mate, you’ve gotta get over this thing you have against Snape.” another says, maybe that Dean kid.

 

“No. He was limping the night of the troll, I bet you anything he set it loose on the castle! Then I saw him sniffing around the third floor, that's banned! I’m going through with it whether you two will come with me or not.” he says, his voice slightly frantic. I bristle at his words about Severus, but I have to strain to catch the irish boy, Seamus’ words. 

 

“Ron, we are not going to stalk Snape, or rummage through his personal things. It would be a world of trouble if you’re caught, and if you do find something how will you explain it to Dumbledore?” he reasons. I turn to Draco and Pansy with wide eyes. 

 

“Whatever. I’m going tonight, he’ll be in the infirmary after I bugger up this potion while he’s making his rounds.” I can practically hear the smirk in Ron’s voice, and I have to remind myself that it won’t help if I charge into their conversation and begin hitting Ron.

 

Once the boys around the corner begin to discuss quidditch and what team they think will win the World Cup, whatever that is, we move forward nonchalantly, chatting about meaningless topics. I watch Ron warily from the corner of my eye, and decide that I may as well try to talk to Severus before the lesson begins. Knocking on the classroom door, I wait for it to swing open. And wait. 

 

Finally the door moves, but Severus isn’t there. Instead, Professor Mcgonagall purses her lips down at me, her arms folded. 

 

“May I help you, Mr. Potter?” She asks, and I thank the gods for the skills I’ve picked up in Slytherin, making my face impassive as I speak. 

 

“Yes. Where, may I ask, is Professor Snape, mis? I had a question for him.” I say carefully, and she studies me. 

 

“I am substituting for Professor Snape for the day, Mr. Potter. Class will begin in a moment, inside students.” she says, effectively cutting anymore questions off much to Ron’s delight. 

 

“Bugger probably got hurt on his own.” Ron mutters to his friends getting laughs in return. 

 

I clench my fist under the table, trying to focus on my brewing but failing miserably as Ron’s barbs continue and grow more horrible. 

 

“I wonder if Dumbledore’s sacked the old bat yet?”

 

“Do you reckon he’s been poisoned? Lucky day, that would be, maybe we’d learn something.”

 

“I bet you he’s a pouf, have you seen his hair? My whole family is all right with the lot of them, Percy came out of the closet last summer. It’s disgusting, really, I’d never touch another bloke.” 

 

This hits a bit too close to home, the Dursley’s words ringing in my ears as I jump to my feet, seeing red. 

“Shut up! You’re pathetic, Severus is ten times any man you’ll  _ ever  _ be!” I shout, and Ron looks over in shock before sneering. 

 

“I’ll bet you’re one too, aren’t you? An abomination, and oddity? You heard what I said, I know you did.” He says, and before I can say anything Draco speaks up.

 

“The entire wizarding world is fine with it, Weasley, you seem to be the only oddity here.” he bites, and Ron flushes at the class’s laughter before retorting. 

 

“Whatever, you rich bastard. I’ll bet you daddy bought all of your friends, didn’t he? I can see why you’d stoop as low as Potter, but even I can tell she doesn’t want to be around you. She even prefers the company of a mudblood!” he half-shouts while pointing at Pansy, and my stomach drops at the last word. Draco has explained the blood slurs Severus banned us from saying, ruefully mentioning how his father had been that way before being locked away in Azkaban. 

 

“Don’t you dare call her that! You’re foul, Ron Weasley, and a pathetic waste of magic.” Pansy growls from her seat near Hermione, who looks more shocked than anything. 

 

Mcgonagall intervenes just as I step forward to retort. Casting some freezing charm, she looks absolutely furious, making my skin crawl. She magicks us into the hallway before beginning her rant about blood slurs, childish arguments and interrupting class time. After a solid half hour of yelling, during which I thought it was rather hypocritical to talk about wasting class time, she takes fifty points from each of us, assigning a detention with Filch on saturday night. 

 

“While I would love to punish you, I won’t punish the entire Gryffindor quidditch team by postponing the game. So you can just miss your housen party instead.” She says, and I nod muttering an empty apology. Severus’ll be so pissed when he finds out we lost 150 points in a single class period.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus disappears, Harry gets a gift and the boys need to learn how to communicate. I know I need to edit these better for grammar, if something sticks out it would really help if you'd let me know. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its so late, I got home later than I usually do. Enjoy, I promise things will get exciting soon.

Harry’s Pov

 

Severus doesn’t return, and the only distraction that works seems to be quidditch and my friends. Practice over the next few days leaves me exhausted, my muscles protesting after hours of holding onto the broom and listening to Flint scream at the team. Rubbing a particularly sore bruise on my side where a bludger hit, I walk into the common room with the others, barely making it to my bed before collapsing. Draco laughs from his desk, walking over to sit on the edge of my bed. My shirt rides up slightly, and he clucks his tongue at me, his hand poking the bruise forming on my side. 

 

“You’re not supposed to let the bludgers hit you, idiot.” he chides, and I merely shrug. Sighing, he removes Ikarus from his arm and sets him on my stomach. 

 

“Tell him to heal you.” he says, and I look up at him bleary eyed. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Tell him. He’ll do it.” he says, and I sigh knowing that he won’t give up easily. 

 

“ _ Er, Ikarus?” _

 

_ “Yes?” _

 

_ “Can you please heal me?”  _

 

_ “Yes. You know, Draco wants to learn Parseltongue.” _

 

_ “Thank you. Wait, what?” _

 

_ “Yes, he tries to talk to me but he is unsuccessful. His words are gibberish, though I think you should teach him.” _

 

_ “Uh, okay. Yeah, I’ll try.”  _ I say, and I jolt as I feel Ikarus move to cover the sensitive bruise. He coils into a ball, biting his tail and I feel his magic seep into me, the skin strengthening and my sore muscles slowly loosening.

 

“ _ Thank you. And, hey, if I teach Draco Parselmouth, you can’t go telling him our secrets.” _

 

_ “Why? That seems like something he should know since they are about him.” _

 

_ “Because he’s my first friend. I won’t go messing things up. I’m not even sure anyways.” _

 

_ “If you say so.” _

 

Sassy snake. I smile before returning my gaze to Draco accusingly. 

 

“Ikarus said you want me to teach you Parseltongue.” I prompt, laughing as his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. 

 

_ “ _ Bloody nark.” he teases Ikarus. 

 

_ “ _ I could try. I don’t know if it would work, but it would be kinda cool.” I say, and he brightens. 

 

_ “ _ Really? That’d be brilliant!” he chirps, moving over to his desk to begin outlining some sort of study schedule while I doze off, trying to ignore Ikarus’ earlier words nagging at me. 

  
  
  


It’s during breakfast the next day that a parcel arrives, bearing my name and no signature. The parcel is oddly shaped, long and thin, and Draco tells me to wait until we’re away to open it since it could be anything. 

 

Staring at the package in anticipation, after all I don’t get mail often, I finally stare long enough for Draco to roll his eyes and stand up early. Grinning, I snatch up the parcel and make a beeline for the Slytherin common room, calling the password out a few feet away from the hidden door. Walking over to an empty section of leather couches, I fall into an armchair and hold the parcel with both hands, suddenly nervous to open it. 

 

What if it was from the Dursley’s, saying I had to go back home somehow? Or from Ron, as a gag gift for getting him into trouble. Draco does not share the same fears apparently as he yanks the parcel from my grip and begins to open it. 

 

“Hey!” I protest, because for once the package is for  _ me,  _ for once something is  _ mine.  _ He just smirks, tossing it back. 

 

“Well open it then, don’t just stare at it.” he replies, and I nod, biting my lip as I tear back some of the paper.  

 

Gasping in shock, I free the brand new Nimbus Two thousand from the parcel, holding the smooth polished wood in my hands with amazement.

 

“Holy shit.” Draco says, and I merely nod. 

 

“You’re sure it was anonymous?” he asks, and I nod again. Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my shoulder and I jump in shock, turning to face Flint. 

 

“New broom, eh Harry? 

 

“Er, yes. What time is practice today, Flint?” I ask, excited to try it out. He grins, the glint in his eye reminding me of a snake. 

 

“Right after classes, we need to break that thing in.” he says, leaving to notify the rest of the team about the time change. 

 

The day passes agonizingly slow, Severus still absent and Professor Binns as boring as ever. His monotonous voice drones on, and Harry idly chats with Ikarus quietly, relying on the snores of his classmates to drown out the soft wind like noises. 

 

I am able to teach Draco a few words during our double lesson, though it’s slow going. The hissing noises take a lot of practise if they don’t come naturally, and I give a startled jump when Ikarus breaks my concentration. 

 

_ “Thats creepy.” _

 

Looking down, I see the snake just barely peeking out from my shirt collar, his slitted eyes twinkling. 

 

_ “What is?” _

 

_ “You were staring.”  _ Blushing I roll my eyes at an attempt to avoid this particular conversation, the irrational fear running through my mind that Draco knows what I’m saying already. 

 

_ “I’m teaching him. You seem awful excited, you like him much more than me.”  _ I pout, and the snake merely blinks at me lazily. 

 

_ “He is warm. And you’re one to talk.”  _ he hisses. 

 

“ _ Is Severus back yet?”  _ he asks, and I frown. It’s been about three days, the confusion is slowly fading into hurt that he could just leave without a word. It reminded me all too much of the fact that I am a student, not special, and nobody has any obligation to look over me. 

 

_ “No, not yet _ .” I answer. 

 

“ _ Do not worry, Harry. He will return. _ ” he responds, just before the bell rings. 

 

“I know what you said.” Draco says excitedly, slinging his bag onto his shoulder as we stand up to leave for dinner. 

 

I nearly drop my things in surprise. Shit. had he heard the thing about Severus? Or worse, about him? What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? Surely normal boys don’t talk about their closest friends with their pet snake in secret. 

 

“What?” I ask, and his smile fades slightly at my odd reaction. 

 

“You said teaching at one point right? I thought I recognized it.” His smile changes into a disappointed pout. Mentally going back through my conversation, I kick myself realizing that I’d said a word he knew. 

 

“Oh! Yea, I did. Good job Draco!” I say, relieved and genuinely proud, and he preens under the compliment. 

 

During dinner I continue teaching him random words, and he crudely strings together a sentence towards dessert. He decides to write all of this down, and try to find a pattern that would make it easier to remember. I don’t have to think about the stressed sounds or the different tones, it comes naturally, but he begins to find a similarity between flower and shower, and other rhyming words. 

 

At one point Pansy asks for me to teach her too, and I am about to comply when Draco interrupts making us both look over in shock. 

 

“No! I mean, uh, no… Pans, can I talk to you?” he asks, and she nods, confused. I frown, hurt that I couldn’t hear whatever they were saying. 

 

Chewing my food sourly, I watch as they whisper a little further down the table, Pansy’s eyebrows widening before she glances to me, sees me looking and turns back quickly. 

 

Blaise laughs at my expression, plopping his bag down next to me and bumping my shoulder. 

 

“You excited for holidays mate?” he asks, loading a plate for himself. I consider the question for a minute. I know that this is his way of distracting me, but I decide to just go along.  

 

“I suppose. I think I’m staying here, are we allowed to do that?” I ask, and he nods. 

 

“Yea, couple of kids do every year. I have to meet the new stepdad, mum’s taking us to Greece to soften the meeting.” he explains, and I nod. Blaise spoke very little of his home life, and I knew to appreciate the gesture when he did.

 

“Snape still not back yet?” he asks, and I shake my head. That raw feeling crawls up my throat again, choking off my words with anger and hurt at the rejection I feel and the simultaneous worry I have for his wellbeing. What if Ron or Quirrell got to him? What if he just left and didn’t think it worth anything to tell me goodbye? I feel selfish for struggling to see which was the worse possibility. 

 

“I have no idea where he could be, I haven’t got an owl or I’d write him. It’s been three days, what could he be doing?” I think out loud, and Blaise just shakes his head, as clueless as I am. 

 

Finishing before Draco and Pansy rejoin me, I ask Blaise to tell them I went to practise. He nods, his focus now on a pretty girl sitting at the Ravenclaw table who he says has been giving him ‘the eyes’ for awhile now. 

 

Rushing from the Great Hall to my dorms, I feel a giddy smile spread across my face, excited to try out my new broom. I coax Ikarus from my stomach and onto his heated branches, changing into quidditch robes. He hisses a sleepy good luck before dozing off again, and I smile to myself. 

 

The walk out to the field seems incredibly short, and before I can get nervous the whistle is ringing and I kick off of the ground hard, darting into the air and grinning as I press my body closer to the broomstick, twisting into a tight spiral, the lovely weightless feeling of flying elating me. The wind bites and my hands are stiff and I’m grinning so hard that it hurts but I’m finally flying on a decent broom and bloody hell  _ I really love flying! _

 

Flint yells for me to focus and catch the snitch already so that we can finish practice, and I feel my cheeks flush from exhilaration and embarrassment, I haven’t even spent the last hour searching, just messing about in the air. Luckily, this snitch is rather slow and I am able to spot it in another couple of minutes, the difference between the chase on the school cleansweep and the nimbus is actually laughable. 

 

Landing, I follow the older team members into the showers, rinsing quickly but deciding to actually shower in the dorms where there is more privacy. I’m sore but happy, and I nearly miss the familiar mop of black hair on my way up to the castle. Looking back, I realize that yes, that's Severus, walking up the path to the castle from the front gates as if he hadn’t gone missing for days with no word. 

Running over, my Nimbus carefully locked in the shed so that my hands are free, I stop just a few paces from him scanning for any injuries. 

“I am not injured, Mr. Potter.” he smirks, an eyebrow lifted and the very picture of condescending and impassive. 

“Where the hell did you go?” I ask, hating the slip in my voice. How gryffindor. 

“Language, young man.” he chides, but I won’t have it.

“What, now you care about the things I do?” I ask, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“What if you’d died? Or been hurt somewhere? You just left without a hint of an excuse, then show up like that’s normal?” I continue, and his confused expression slowly dissipates into a rueful but slightly happy look. 

“Harry, I did not intend to abandon you. I was sent on a trip by Dumbledore, to retrieve an important artifact to help our favorite dog. I thought you would have gotten my letter? I sent it with your broom, though that bloody owl was a piece of work.” Severus says, and my brow furrows. 

“Letter? Wait, the broom was from you? There wasn’t even a name signed, but… I mean, thank you, it flies wonderfully.” I say, a small grin finding a place on my face as I think of my practise. 

“I know, I could see you from the gates. You really should be more careful.” he says, and I let out a little laugh. 

“Well, I love the broom. But please say something next time before you disappear, I was really worried.” I say, and he nods, turning to continue walking with me up to the castle. When we near the doors, I remember the little episode with Ron. 

“Shit.” I curse under my breath, and Severus turns to me.

“What?” he says, not having heard me. 

“Well, um, you see a couple of things happened while you were gone.” I begin, and he cocks an eyebrow.

“That Ron kid, he was being right awful. Me, Draco and Pansy all heard him practically threaten you, saying he would bugg- er, mess, up the potion that day to hurt you, and that he would search through your things and then he started saying you should be sacked, and how you’re a- well, he said awful things about people who like other wizards, and then I told him you were ten times the man he’ll ever be, and it turned into this screaming match in class and I sortoflostyou150pointsfromMcgonagall.” I finish in a rush, and he looks down at me, arms folded. Lifting one to hold his brow, he sighs heavily, taking a moment to speak. 

“I appreciate you defending me, Harry, but there is no way in hell that kid could get one over on me. Furthermore, the points are not ideal but once again, I don’t care so much about points as you seem to think I do. Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Professor Mcgonagall seemed to think it was a particular insult that sent you over the edge.” he prompts, and I shake my head, knowing exactly what he was referring to but refusing to share. 

“Hm. Well, I have an actual bed to get to and I assume you plan on showering.” he quips, and I grin as we come up to the dorms. 

“Yes, thanks Severus.” I say with a cheeky grin, knowing that he dislikes the lack of formality during school. 

“Good night Harry.” he rolls his eyes, turning and sweeping down the hall towards his chambers. Well, at least now I know he’s safe. 

  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch goes wrong, Ikarus is shady and Hagrid is far too excited to go into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit short, sorry. I'll make the next few longer, I'm busy this week with service hours and what not. Enjoy!
> 
> Also I know that a lot of the plot is moved around, but I promise it'll make sense.

The first Quidditch match is on an overcast, slightly rainy day. Flint spends the entire morning barking random orders at the team members, and telling everyone what perfect weather it is to play in. His threats to win the game are fuel enough, I decide that I’ll have to switch houses if we lose for fear of a painful death. 

 

I can hardly stomach the thought of a meal, my stomach already churning but Draco and Pansy force me to eat some food, telling me that it will help. 

 

“ _ Do I get to go to Draco now?”  _ Ikarus asks, and I roll my eyes.

 

_ “Yes. Why do you like him so much?” _

 

_ “Why do you?” _

 

_ “He’s my friend.”  _ I blush.

 

_ “Is that all?” _

 

_ “Stop, Ikarus. You know why I can’t. It isn’t natural, I won’t bugger everything up because I’m a freak.”  _ I say, before discreetly transferring the technically banned pet from under my shirt to Draco’s, where he casts a heating charm to fight the sharp wind outside. 

 

Smiling half heartedly at their calls of good luck, I try to ignore the glare from Quirrell or the way Draco immediately turns to whisper something to Pansy the moment I’m out of earshot. 

 

Focus, Potter. Fly well, get the snitch, win the game. Fly well, get the snitch, win the game.

 

Flint is screaming his head off in the locker rooms when I arrive, ignoring his barb at me while I change into the emerald and silver Slytherin team robes. They fit snugly, so ask to help with speed since I’m a seeker. I asked Flint to make them bigger, self concious of my sharp bone and small frame. He absolutely refused. 

 

The students slowly trickle into the stands, and I feel my stomach drop. I should never have done this, shit, I can’t do this. 

 

Flint barks for us to follow him, and I pick up my broom, the sleek handle bringing me back down to earth a bit. Walking onto the field, I can hardly hear the crowd or the commentary, my own heart pounding in my ears. I nearly miss the whistle to kick off, but my broom makes up for it as I gracefully begin to make loops around the field. 

 

Fred Weasley slams a bludger strait at the gryffindor head chaser, and I slap him on the back in passing with a cheer, my eyes scanning the pitch for a flicker of gold. How the entire Weasley family could be so decent except for one person boggles my mind. 

 

Deciding to hover for a bit instead of moving, I am slightly in front of the teacher’s stands when my broom gives a furious jerk without permission, nearly throwing me off. Once I know I have a firm grip, it repeats, yanking me roughly from side to side and twisting rapidly. I sling to the thin wood, heart beating as I realize just how high up in the air I am, my foot slipping and causing me to roll off of the broom, one hand clutching on. The wind whips my robes as I try to keep hold of the broom, the commentator wondering aloud if my broom is hexed or if I’m just that terrible a flyer. 

 

I struggle for a few minutes, righting myself in time to see a small fire in the teacher’s stands, on the tip of Severus’ cloak. I make sure the fire is out before turning to begin searching again, this time with anger induced vigour. My adrenaline pumps, my hands firm but my muscles tensed as I look for the damn thing. 

 

Catching a flicker of gold from the corner of my eye, I finally spot the tiny ball hovering near the Gryffindor goal posts. Keeping an eye on the other seeker, who is looking in the other direction, I fly as quickly as I dare until I am as close as he is on the opposite side before diving down, body pressed to my broom. He notices a second later, cursing and diving after me. A bludger comes flying in my direction, and I twist my body into a roll to stay on course for the snitch, feeling the wind of the heavy ball rush against me. 

 

Millimeters from the snitch, my fingers stretching out, I hear the bludger hit the seeker on my tail at an awkward angle, causing him to fly forward, snagging the end of my broom and sending me flying off onto the pitch.

 

Confused at the odd metallic taste in my mouth, I wonder if I am bleeding where I feel something moving in my mouth. Cupping my hand over, I open my mouth to see the golden snitch fall out, wings whirring and I grin, my sore limbs from hitting the ground so hard long forgotten. 

 

The crowd erupts in a mixture of cheers and boos, and the Weasley twins reach me first. Each slipping a hand under my upper arms, they haul me up, slapping me on the back as the rest of the team runs over. I try to see Draco and Pansy in the crowd, but I can’t spot the flash of white blonde hair or Pansy’s awful green bow. Detaching myself from the constricting crowd, I finally see Draco and try to walk over before he stops me with a shake of his head. He reaches me first, and I look at him confused. 

 

“Severus said to stay in the crowd until he can get here. He knows what happened to your broom.” he explains quickly, and I nod. He glances around, keeping his eyes up as I feel Ikarus slide onto my arm and begin healing my scrapes and sore muscles. I smile softly, and I finally see Pansy as she forces her way over. Once she’s close enough she jumps and latches onto my shoulders, hugging me in a grip that challenges Ikarus’. Laughing, I thank her for the congratulations, the crowd beginning to thin as students return to the castle to get out of the cold air. 

 

Walking between Draco and Pansy at their demand, we talk about the match and the upcoming holidays. Draco describes christmas at the manor, and Pansy tell us that she’ll be flying to Brazil with her parents and older sister for the break. I simply say I’ll be staying here, and shake off their responses of ‘that’s not  _ christmas _ ’, or ‘that sucks mate’. I sometimes forget that they don’t know everything about me or the Dursley’s, and the reminder makes me feel quite lonely. Though, I know better than to bugger it all up, the pity looks are awful to endure. 

 

Walking into the Slytherin common room I am hit with a wave of noise as wizarding music plays on an odd contraption with spinning metal parts. Students fill the common room, and I have to duck as a silver streamer flies through the air, swirling around the common room. 

 

Grinning, I join Blaise at the drink table, opting for some regular water even as he heavily suggest to try the ‘special’ punch. Blaise, however, knocks down the punch readily, and soon he’s a sloppy mess leering at anything that walks and using me as his personal crutch. 

 

He is making a painfully obvious show of admiring George Weasley’s ass when I decide to coax the cup from his hand, replacing it with water. 

 

“That's a bloke you’re ogling, you know.” I laugh, and he just shrugs. 

 

“I like blokes. And girls.” he says, and my eyes widen slightly. Maybe it really was normal in the wizarding world?

 

“Um, hey Blaise.” I try. 

 

“Hm.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“That you fancied blokes.”

 

“I dunno. I always thought they were good looking, not just the jealous think with celebrities and what not. Why? D’ you?” I decide not to answer as I lead him over to a comfy arm chair away from the dancing teens, laying him down before slipping away to shower. 

 

Falling asleep nearly the moment my head hit the pillow, I almost miss Ikarus’ snake like laugh.

  
  
  


The Christmas Holidays are fast approaching, and the teachers deem this an opportunity to pile on the workload if only to slow the students down a bit. Draco seems to thrive under the challenge, meaning that I have to work just as hard so that my work meets his expectations before turning it in. The process is stressful and slow, but I am grateful to have him pushing me, there's something satisfying in doing your work well. 

 

Our detention is taking place tonight, and I groan when Severus tells me that it will be with Filch. No doubt that meant heavy labor or demeaning, tedious tasks that he’d make us do the muggle way. 

 

Because I am dreading the end of dinner, the classes naturally go by quickly and the meals seem even shorter. Draco, Pansy and I meet Ron and Filch at the door to the Entrance Hall, Filch holding a lantern and wearing a chilly grin. 

 

He doesn’t say a word as he pushes open the heavy front doors, revealing the inky night sky and dark grounds. Looking at Draco incredulously, I shake my head and follow Filch out onto the lawns. 

 

“Shame, corporal punishment was banned. Used to have students hung by their fingers in me office, lot less trouble makers then, I tell ye.” he grumbles, and I stiffen. While he wasn’t very high on my list in the first place, his words leave me slightly angry. 

 

We walk for a good while, past the gardening houses where I’d thought we’d be working and towards Hagrid’s cabin. Filch knocks hard on the wooden door, and I hear the familiar roars of Fang while Hagrid struggles to pry him away enough to open the door. 

 

“Ah! Flich, Dumbledore told me ‘bout the detentions. Didn’ know it was you three, ah well. I’ll take em from here, Filch, I can walk em back up when we’re done ‘s well.” Hagrid says cheerfully, and I sigh in relief. I’d much rather work with Hagrid than Filch. 

 

“Right. Well, grab a lantern then, ‘Arry. You an’ Draco can take one path, me ‘n Pans will take the other. Oh, sorry there, didn’t see ya. Weasley, right? I love all yer brothers, Percy still comes down once an again. Well, you can come with me and Pans then.” Hagrid speaks, not seeming to mind carrying on a conversation by himself. 

 

“Sorry Hagrid, but where exactly will we be going?” I ask, and he brightens up a bit. 

 

“We’ll be workin’ in the forest, ‘Arry. Lookin’ fer unicorn blood, somethin nasty’s been hurtin em real bad.” 

 

The forbidden forest at night, to search for a beast capable of hurting unicorns? Fantastic.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detention is served, Christmas holidays begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am sorry this took so long to update, I have been super busy the past two days. Its a bit longer to make up for it, hope you enjoy!

Hagrid begins walking into the forest, and I take a deep breath before following, walking behind him and Fang and struggling through the thick foliage and rough ground. The trees only grow closer together, the light from the two lanterns barely denting the dense darkness surrounding us.

Hagrid stops a few minutes later, and I nearly run into his back once he’d stopped so abruptly. Turning, he smiles down at us. 

 

“Right. ‘Arry and Draco can take Fang down tha path right there. Pans’ and Mr. Weasley ere will come with me. If you get inter trouble, jus send up red sparks. If ye find anythin then send up green sparks.” he says, making sure I have a firm grip on Fang and the lantern before beginning off down the opposite path. 

 

I turn to Draco, the forest suddenly seeming so much bigger and darker now that Hagrid isn’t here. 

 

“Do you think we can get away with just standing here until they get back?” Draco asks hopefully. I shake my head no, and he sighs as we begin to move through the trees. After walking for a bit, I spot something shiny on the ground in the light of the lantern. Bringing it closer, I see that it's thick silvery blood, unicorn blood. 

 

“Well we’re getting closer.” I say uneasily. Draco nods, and we continue forward, straining to see anymore blood. Fang walks happily along beside us, oblivious to the dark forest around him. The wind starts picking up, and I shiver as the temperature seems to drop by twenty degrees. My head begins to grow tight feeling, a dull throbbing pounding just above my eye, where my scar sits. I am about to voice my concern when Draco gasps, making me turn to him worried. 

 

He points a shaky finger towards the left front of us, and I look warily and strain my eyes to find a dark looming figure I mistook for a bush moving over a light patch of ground. 

 

Wait, no, that’s a fucking  _ unicorn _ . Staring in horror I watch, frozen to the spot as the figure moves, the dark robes falling away to reveal an ashen, distorted face as my scar splits into a searing pain. 

 

I am vaguely aware of the scream I utter, clutching my hands to my face to try and quench the pain as it seems to fill my head until the very skull is cracking apart, my vision fading as I try to grasp what little I am aware of around me. The pain slowly ebbs as I focus on breathing and keeping conscious, reminded vividly of my time at the Dursley’s. 

 

Draco’s frantic voice begins to break through into my odd state of fuzzy pain and focus, and I force my sticky eyes open trying to adjust to the yellowish lighting. 

 

I see Draco’s face first, his skin paler than normal against the inky black night. I groggily poke at his nose, making sure everything is real. 

 

“You absolute git.” he grumbles. 

 

“You’re the git, why the fuck didn’t you leave to get Hagrid. That thing was dangerous!” I say, sitting up, and turn to find that Green sparks hovered above the trees, and the others must be arriving soon. 

 

“It left once you started screaming and fell, it was- it was drinking the unicorn’s blood.” he finishes, his voice filled with disgust. 

 

I am about to reply when Hagrid comes thundering through the trees to our left, his lantern swinging chaotically close to the trees on either side. He stops next to me, lifting me by the scruff of my robes and pulling me up, checking over for injuries. 

 

“I’m fine Hagrid, there was this- thing, drinking from the unicorn, and I passed out for a minute. Probably shock or something.” I add, reassuring him. 

 

“Draco said it’s left now, but can we go back now?” I ask, and he lets out a hearty laugh that skirts on the line of a sob. 

 

“Yea. Reckon you’ve learned yer lesson. I fergot ta ask, why were you in trouble in the firs’ place?” he asks, stalking over to inspect the deceased unicorn before pulling out a thin black bag that suctions to the creature’s body once closed, and heaves it over his shoulder. 

 

“We were arguing. Ron was spreading lies about Severus and I shouted at him, it kind of escalated from there.” I say, and he looks around surprised at the scowling Weasley. 

 

“Well, not many like Snape. Specially the Gryffindors, but ye shouldn’t get inter silly arguments ‘Arry. It lands ye in detention.” he says, smiling and I just nod. There’s no use arguing, I just want to return to the dorms. Pansy quickens her pace until she’s walking next to me, sliding her hand into mine and squeezing it. She looks to me in worry, and I just shake my head wanting to speak in private with her and Draco. 

 

We trek through the slowly thinning forest, the only sounds Hagrid’s heavy breathing and Draco leading Fang with us, the dog spooked and skittish. Light grows stronger as we leave the forest, the moon bright and casting an eerie blue glow over the grounds. Shadows seem to reach out to us as Hagrid brings us to the castle, and Ron strides ahead of us by a few feet obviously wanting to be done with this as soon as possible. He has the front door open and propped when we reach it, and has already disappeared up to the Gryffindor common room by the time we say goodbye to Hagrid. 

 

We walk briskly down to the common room, and I ache to just fall asleep so that this damn headache can go away. It would take too long to ask for a potion, let alone explaining why it was there in the first place. No, sleep sounds good. Maybe Lkarus can heal it? He’s never done a headache before.

 

“Salazar’s nipple.” Draco says, the common room door materializing before us. He rolls his eyes, “Honestly, why does Snape approve any of these?”

 

“Well we know nobody will guess them.” Pansy smiles, and she drops my hand as we walk through the empty common room, finding a small group of couches in front of the fire. Draco disappears into the dormitories for a minute, coming back with Ikarus and a parcel. He plops down between Pansy and I, earning a huff from her and an eye roll from me. A small from of concentration forms on his face, and I find it endearing as he hisses, “ _ Ikarus, Harry is not well. Can you fix headaches?” _

 

“ _ Please, Draco. A headache is nothing. By the way, how is your six month step plan going?”  _ Ikarus says, making his way over my shoulders and coiling gently around my neck, his magic seeping into me. I am curious to know what plan Draco has, surely he’d tell me?

 

“ _ Considering it’s day three of month six, I’ve no idea yet.”  _ Draco laughs. 

 

“ _ Remind me again why you even need such an in depth strategy?” _

 

“ _ Heeey. Why are you two keeping secrets?”  _ I whine, and Draco looks up, surprised. 

 

“ _ Because he likes me more.”  _ He says, and I barely catch the slight jest to avoid an actual answer. I let it go for now, I’m too tired to drill a Malfoy for information they don’t want to give away. 

 

“ _ I keep your secrets, Harry, why shall I not keep his?” _

 

“It’s quite rude of you two to carry on a conversation in a language you won’t teach me.” Pansy snaps, and Draco placates her by tossing her the parcel, which I now recognize as a package of sweets from his mother.  

 

“So, what did this thing look like? And why were you on the ground?” Pansy jumps in, and I sigh. No beating around the bush then. 

 

“It looked like a man, or, er, wizard. But when it turned, the face was distorted. Small, kind of, and misformed. When it looked at me, my scar hurt, I thought my head would explode. I nearly fell unconscious, but I’m used t- er, I mean I tried my best to stay awake when everything came into focus and Draco said that the thing had left.” I say, and they seem not to notice my slip up. 

 

“It was weird.” Draco agrees. “It just bolted when it saw Harry. And the way it’s body moved, it was like it turned so fluidly, I didn’t even see the neck move when it’s face was shown.” he says, and I nod. I close my eyes, the combined exhaustion of the day and Ikarus’ magic easing me into sleep. I hear a small laugh from next to me, and some soft murmuring but I fall asleep before I can make out the words. 

 

***

 

“Have fun in Greece, I’ll see you next term.” I smile to Blaise, and he returns the farewell before leaving the dorms with his trunk in tow. Greg and Vincent already left, complaining about missing breakfast to get on the first train out. Pansy’s farewell lasted a solid ten minutes, as she reminded me to eat and get sleep and drink water and oh did she say to eat? She seemed nervous to let me alone, as if I’d get expelled without her guidance. I’d rather keep it to myself that she’s probably right. 

 

I haven’t seen Draco all day, he’d woken up before me, something truly rare in itself, and dashed off to the owlery to write a letter according to his note left on his bed. Breakfast passed without him returning, and when everyone else is gone and he still isn’t back I decide to find him myself. 

 

Ikarus slides over the ground next to me, basking in his newfound free reign of the castle. He’s already thoroughly explored the dorms, all of them, and the common room. Severus said that during the holiday he could roam freely with my supervision, and we’d see how it goes to decide if he could leave on his own. Ikarus hunts for his own mice and birds in the forest, Severus takes him a couple times a week but his hunting area is small and quite boring, from what he says. 

 

We reach the staircase that leads to the owlery tower, and I realize that i probably shouldn’t bring a snake into the bird hen uncovered. 

 

“ _ We’re going into the owlery, I know you aren’t hungry and won’t hurt them but you will still scare them. Can you coil under my shirt for a bit?”  _ I say, and he doesn’t answer, but instead climbs up and under my shirt.  

 

Climbing the steps, I hear the collective hooting of hundreds of owls grow louder until the smell of birds is full force, and I step carefully around the droppings littering the floor. 

 

Even amongst the white birds I can spot his head, turned away and towards the window reading a piece of parchment. He turns around, unaware of my presence and reading with a grin before reaching into his pocket and taking out a quill and flipping the paper over, writing a hasty sentence and looking up to grab a bird. 

 

He jumps, surprised to see me and I smile as though I hadn’t just been creepily watching him. 

 

“Why aren’t you on the train? Your mother with be quite upset.” I say, trying to mask the slightly sad tone that forces its way into my voice. 

 

“Well, erm, plans have changed, you see. I’ll have to stay here.” he says, and I can’t help the grin that breaks out across my face. 

 

“When you say plans changed, what do you mean?” I ask. His behavior is far too odd for this to be some small change. 

 

“Well, i don’t really want to go home. The Manor reminds me of dad, lately, and mum’ll be all over her new boyfriend, some Auror bloke, and-”

 

“Wait.” I cut him off, the smile stretching slightly more as I feel unwelcome butterflies in my stomach. 

 

“So you mean you asked your mother if you could stay?” I ask, and his ears and cheeks go a bit red. I smile, but I realize with a bit of guilt how excited he was to go home, how much he talks about his mother and house and how much he’s missed it. 

 

I realize he stayed here for me, so that I wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone. 

 

“Draco, you shouldn’t just stay because of me. I don’t mind, really, it’ll be loads better here than the Dursleys, I know how much you love the Manor.” I say, and I feel a sharp twist in my gut as I speak, the words tasting bitter. The prospect of a Christmas spent with anyone but myself, only this time I’d be out of the cupboard, is one that I refuse to get excited over. 

 

“Oh, shut it. Mum really is shagging far too much for my taste, you are not about to have your first actual Christmas alone and it’s already done. Now, where should we explore first?” he finishes, his devilish grin shaking me from most of my guilt and I decide the swoosh in my stomach is excitement to explore. 

 

We end up going to the Great Hall first, since Draco missed breakfast, but the food is cleared away. Walking back to the common room, Draco decides he’ll just eat some of his mother’s sweets when we run into two grinning redheads. 

 

“Hello lads.” they speak, in unison. I grin back, they were the sole reason I didn’t lose my head at quidditch practises. And if even half of the stories are true, they get up to quite a lot of mischief. 

 

“Hi.” I say, and Draco nods. He still seems wary of anyone at all related to Ron. 

 

“We just happened to overhear,” one begins, maybe Fred?

 

“That you two need some food. Fancy a trip to the kitchens?” I share a look with Draco, before quietly hissing. 

 

“ _ They’re alright. Plus you need food.” _

 

_ “Okay.”  _ he says, before we turn back to the intrigued twins and nod. 

 

“Was that parseltongue?” one asks, and I tense up. Studying them, I decide that while they don’t follow rules they are good guys. 

 

“Yes. I trust you two can keep that between us?” I say, and they grin nodding. 

 

“Course. Now, for the kitchens.”

 

They lead us down a few halls, and stop in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Fred, I know now after hearing them talk a bit more, reaches up to tickle the pear in the painting, and it swings forward to admit us into a huge room mirroring the great hall, but with hundreds of tiny creatures milling about preparing food. The closest drop what they are doing, rushing forward to stoop into deep bows. Their high, squeaky voices pierce the air as they all clamour to be the one to help.

 

“What can we be getting you sirs?”

 

“Do sirs want some food?”

 

“Welcome sirs, what can wes be getting for you?”

 

I turn, amazed and slightly amused at the display before me. It was as if they actually wanted to work, like they were excited to do it. 

 

I say as much to Draco in Parselmouth as Fred and George each ask for some food, requesting the fanciest crepes possible for a  _ Malfoy,  _ teasingly. I roll my eyes, his favorite food is blueberry pancakes, the idiots. Everyone knows that.

 

Draco explains quietly that these are house elves, and yes, they actually want to serve and help. I watch the elves milling about, preparing lunch for the remaining students, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. How could anyone like to serve this way? I hated cleaning at the Dursleys, I hated the way they treated me. While I pride in a job well done, which was the only saving factor in that damn house, I can’t imagine signing up for such a job. 

 

We spend a couple minutes debating the technicalities of it all ( _ they work for free? Yes, Potter. Wait, wait, so clothes set them free? Why? I don’t know, they just do! _ ) until the houselves are bringing us plate, having us sit at a little table off to the side with the twins. I watch with dread as the crepes are placed in front of Draco, and I don’t even notice what the twins ordered for me. He simply shrugs slightly before digging in, obviously more hungry than I thought. 

 

Draco glances over to me, before his eyes widen slightly and he calls a house elf over. “He’s allergic to strawberries, can you please get him something else?” he says, and I look in confusion over to the twins who don’t have strawberries. Looking at my own plate, I see that yes, I have strawberry pancakes. With an odd jump in my stomach, I realize that he knows something like that, which I hardly ever make a fuss over. Usually you don’t have to, the Great Hall is set up so that we have options each day. 

 

“Thanks.” I say, my stomach still feeling weird. Maybe I can’t even be in close proximity with strawberries? That would mean that it’s gotten worse, when we found out I had eaten a couple for dinner with a piece of toast, and Aunt Petunia waited hours before caving and taking me to the doctor. 

 

We finish our food and part ways with the Weasley twins, and I finally get Draco to grudgingly admit that they aren’t that horrible. 

We end up skipping lunch, spending the rest of the day flying on Draco’s broom from home and mine, and I find that he’s a fair flyer. Something must be off with me and strawberries, I keep checking out and refocusing only to find that I’ve been staring at Draco’s hair in the sun or the loops his broom makes in the sky.

 

Ikarus firmly decides that he hates flying, and so I leave him on a heated patch of ground to wait while we fly. When I’m ready to go in, the sun is setting and my face is numb with cold, my fingers frozen but adrenaline rushing through me. I fly towards Draco, signaling for him to wait for me. 

 

Slowing to a stop, I decide I must have been out for far too long because his face looks oddly soft and why are his eyes all bright like that and I wonder if his lips are as soft and slightly chapped as they look, is it normal to wonder that?

 

“I’m ready to go in, they might still have dinner out.” I say with a tremor I hope he mistakes for a shiver from the cold, and he nods, turning into a steep dive and pulling up to a stop just at the broom shed. We lock our brooms up, and I grab Ikarus before making the trek back across the grounds and to the castle, making it through the heavy snow just as the sun is replaced by the moon. 

 

“Hall is closed, kitchens then?” Draco grins, and I nod following him own to the dungeons and to the fruit painting. The door swings open, and we quietly ask for some dinner and sit to wait while it is prepared. 

 

“So I think I have a pattern worked out on Parseltongue.” Draco says, his eyes lit with excitement. 

 

“Really?” I ask, interested if only because he shows so much enthusiasm. 

 

“Yes, it makes quite a lot of sense mathematically and logically speaking. Much more than english, anyway, it follows rules and has a very solid system. Like, ask me a word I haven’t been taught yet.” he says, and I think for a moment.

 

“ _ Salazar Slytherin had three nipples.”  _ I try, and his startled laugh makes me smile, so he understood then.

 

“Really? Okay, Salazar Slytherin had three nipples. I do too, y’know.” he says, and I feel my face blanch for a moment before I laugh. 

 

“What? Seriously?” I say, and he nods. I don’t think it through before I am blurting out, “Prove it.” His eyes widen, and I realize that I just asked to see my best mates nipple. Way to act normal, Harry, just one of the guys doing guy things with mates. 

 

Draco just lifts his sweater and button down, and his third nipple is not the bizarre thing I imagined but simply a pink looking bump on his skin, like a mole but decidedly different, and just over his left ribs. 

 

“Well then. Even Malfoys aren’t perfect.” I quip, and he narrows his eyes at me.

 

“Please, Potter. Some would argue that this makes me more than average, beyond perfect if you will.” he says. 

 

“Quite. I wonder, how much would Pansy pay to know this?” I say, and he glares at me muttering something along the lines of ‘don’t you dare, Potter’. 

 

When we finally return to the dorms, it’s freezing as Blaise wasn’t here to turn on the fire for us and no other bodies are issuing heat into the marble room. Shuffling over to my bed, pouting, I pull on a pair of sleep pants and a large tee shirt, and make sure that the branches are sufficiently warm for Ikarus. 

 

“Hey, Harry. I have an idea.” Draco smirks, and I grin in excitement, nodding for him to continue. 

 

We end up levitating all of the beds together, to make one huge bed, and Draco uses an odd spell to change the color of flames so that the fireplace is on but shines a soft blue. 

 

“G’night, Draco.” I say, somewhere in between the left three beds. I hear him pause in his shuffling of the covers. 

 

“Erm, Harry?” he asks, and I tense. Would he think that this was weird? Have I gone too far?

 

“Would you mind if we like, slept closer? It’s freezing in here, I mean.” he says, and I sigh in relief. 

 

“Yea, sure. I mean, yea, it's super cold.” I feel him move closer, until Ikarus is happily coiled across both of our stomachs, well, my stomach and Draco’s back as he liked to sleep on his stomach and why had I never noticed that?

 

“G’night Harry.” he says again, and I smile at the yawn in his voice. 

  
“Night, Draco.”   


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas holidays/ eve, Harry talks to a painting and the Weasley's aren't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy, I know I'm stretching out the holidays but the break is important. Also, as angsty and annoying as it will be, the boys probably won't officially get together anytime soon. It will all be worth the wait, just another frustrating fic where they act thicker than bricks and need their friends to scream at them before they realize what's happening.

We end up just taking meals in the kitchens for the next few days during break, there are so few students that the Great Hall just seems empty and eerie. The decorations around the castle bring an air of pine and baking sweets, the snow around the grounds forcing us to stay in the castle. 

 

Draco and I explore all of the towers, and end up finding a secret hallway behind a tapestry that leads from the third floor corridor up to the fourth, fifth and sixth saving tons of time. The hall is dark, and so we end up having to hold onto the wall to find our way out. 

 

Draco teaches me how to play chess, which he says that he used to play with Narcissa every night, as well as other wizarding games like Exploding Snap and card games. We have yet to move the beds, it’s like a huge sleepover in a tent. Draco has become nearly fluent in Parseltongue, he tried to explain the rules and technicalities to me but I just decided that since I already know it I don’t feel like overthinking it. 

 

Ikarus enjoys the exploring immensely, and he teases me mercilessly knowing fully well that Draco understands everything. When he asks about it, I just tell him that i’ll leave his secrets with Ikarus if he leaves mine. He blushed, nodding and dropping the topic. 

 

Stretching groggily, I feel like the left side of my body is a lot colder than the right, and shifting to look down I realize that Draco is laying half on top of me, Ikarus choosing to cuddle up to him rather than me, the little traitor. 

 

I gently slide out from under him, having grown used to the impromptu cuddling that occurs when another person sleeps near me. Walking to the showers, I pick my favorite one and turn the water to hot, taking my glasses and setting them on the little soap shelf while I shower. 

 

When my hair is washed I shiver at the cold air when I step out only in a towel, and I decide I really should cut it soon. Changing into some pants and trousers, I find a large green sweater that probably belongs to Draco and tug it on, trying in vain to dry my hair before sighing and looking for something of Blaise’s to tie it back. Finding one of the little band things on his section of the counter, I pull it back into a little knot and clean my glasses, walking back out into the room.

 

Draco is talking softly to Ikarus, and he glares at me when he sees his sweater. 

 

“ _ Prat.” _

 

“ _ Twat.”  _

 

“ _ What are we doing today?” _

 

“ _ I have to buy Christmas gifts by owl order.”  _ I say, and he stretches before getting up to change. 

_ “Do you think Snape would take us to the village since you’re basically his kid?”  _ Draco says, and I tense. The words used to make a smile spread across my face, but now they make my stomach churn. As the semester has ended he’s spent less and less time around me, and I’ve had to force myself not to get any stupid hopes or ideas into my head. 

 

_ “Don’t say that.”  _ I say, and he looks over, confused. 

 

_ “What?”  _

 

_ “I-I’m not. He wouldn’t adopt me, he’s just my godfather. I don’t have a dad.”  _ I respond, and he thinks for a moment before nodding. 

 

“ _ Sorry.”  _

 

_ “It’s okay.”  _

 

_ “Village then?”  _ He says, artfully changing the subject. 

 

_ “Yea, we’ll ask. Get dressed bum.”  _

 

_ “Whatever, I’m not the one half in pyjamas. Like your hair by the way, it actually looks like you brushed it for once.”  _

 

_ “Whatever, at least I don’t spend three hours on my hair.”  _

 

_ “Hey, I haven’t been doing that over break.”  _

 

_ “I know, why do you even bother? It looks fine this way.”  _

 

_ “I don’t fancy looking like a bird, unlike someone I know.”  _

 

_ “Well, you can’t hate it that much. You hold your friends to certain standards, you made Pansy lose the earrings if she was to be seen with you.”  _

 

_ “Yes well, I can’t do much about you scarhead.” _

 

_ “You’re just jealous because I don’t have white hair.”  _

 

_ “Hey! Its platinum blonde, actually, most wizards go through dozens of bottles of hair potion for this color which comes naturally to a Malfoy such as myself.”  _

 

_ “Yes, and just think about how it won’t change when you’re eighty years old.”  _

 

_ “Well you’ll be lucky to stick around and enjoy my presence that long.”  _

 

_ “I will if you let me, though I imagine a Malfoy wouldn’t suffer my company more than a few years.”  _ I say, teasing in tone but a true concern behind the words. I keep waiting for him to realize I’m nothing special. 

 

_ “Well, you are the only bloke who can talk in Parseltongue so I suppose you serve a purpose.”  _

 

_ “Hm. I’m also the only person besides your mum and Pansy who knows anything personal about you.” _

 

_ “Please. Pansy knows very little compared to you, I’ll just have to kill you, you know too much.”  _ He jokes, as we walk through the common room and into the halls, towards Severus’ chambers.  __

 

_ “Yes, anyone who knows you prefer pink bubblegum to mint and your favorite color is Gryffindor red has to go.”  _ I grin, and he glares at me. 

 

_ “My point exactly.”  _ We stop outside of the painting leading into his rooms, and as the knight in the painting to get Severus. A few moments later the knight reappears just as the painting swings open, revealing a tired Severus in night clothes. He rolls his eyes when he sees us, a welcome greeting coming from him. He invites us in and offers tea before asking why we’re here. 

 

_ “We were just wondering if you’d be able to take us to Hogsmeade, for Christmas shopping.”  _ I say, and his brow furrows before Draco nudges me. 

 

_ “ _ English please, Harry.” he says, and I flush.    
  


_ “ _ Sorry. Um, I asked if you were allowed to take us into Hogsmeade to shop for gifts.” I repeat, and Severus considers us for a moment. 

 

_ “ _ I shall expect both of you dressed and ready to leave in half an hour, back here. Trust you boys to leave your shopping until Christmas eve.” he says, and I grin thanking him before leaving with Draco.

 

_ “I only have half an hour to fix my hair! This is truly cruel.”  _ Draco complains, and I just laugh.

 

We walk back through the empty common room, the Weasley twins probably off doing something dangerous, and into the dorms. I change my worn pants for black trousers, and give Draco’s sweater back for a large tee shirt that was probably from Dudley, luckily covered by my robes. Shuffling through my trunk, I find my money and carefully place it in a pocket inside my robes, charming my shirt with a heating spell as Ikarus coils snugly around my middle. Walking into the bathroom, I nearly run into Draco who has managed perfect hair in half his normal time, and I roll my eyes following him out and back to Severus’ chambers. 

 

Severus is standing impatiently, and he leads us to the fireplace before grabbing a handful of floo powder, instructing us clearly and carefully on how to speak and travel by floo powder. I go first, followed by Draco and the Severus. 

 

The shoppe we’ve landed in is packed with people, all laughing and holding sloshing mugs of an amber liquid. Severus leads us out of the shoppe, which he calls the three broomsticks, and down the road. 

 

“You two have an hour, meet me back here when you’re done. I trust you won’t mess up too badly.” Severus says, before ducking into a potions shop. 

 

I turn to Draco, and he grins before running towards a large joke shop labeled Zonko’s. We spend a good twenty minutes in there before realizing we aren’t supposed to be dicking around, and so we go our separate ways to shop without knowing what the other is buying.

 

After searching for a gift for Pansy and settling on a soft green cloak, I look for Severus. I find a new cauldron since his is getting old, and a book on the rarest herbs in south america and their uses in potions. I run to the pet shop after checking to make sure Draco is nowhere in sight, and purchase one of his gifts before walking towards another. 

 

Looking without any specific inspiration, I pass a shop full of silver trinkets and decide to look around. I’m about to leave when a shining light towards the back catches my eye. Walking further into the store curiously, the shopkeeper follows warily, reaching to stop me from touching the small orb. 

 

“You can’t touch it, lad.” he says, gruffly. 

 

“What is it?” I ask, eyes still focused in wonder on the bright little ball of seemingly pure white light. 

 

“A star.” he says, and nods to a display a few feet over, full of more just like it in all shapes and sizes. 

 

“They come in constellations, too, completely safe, won’t catch fire. They hover on their own, and don’t shine in the daylight. Yes, they’re real, just small bits of stars rather than the big ones.” he says proudly, and I feel a grin break out across my face. 

 

“Do you have all constellations?”

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

*** 

 

Severus took us back to the school, and I agreed to wait a few minutes while Draco hid his presents before I followed him. I wander down the halls branching off of the common room entrance, and I find a large painting depicting Salazar Slytherin. 

 

Curious, I decide to try something new. 

 

“ _ Hello Mr. Slytherin, can you understand me?”  _ I ask, and he studies me before answering. 

 

_ “Yes, fool. You are speaking the language of my ancestors. Who are you?”  _ He demands, and I sigh in relief that he answers in Parseltongue. 

 

_ “Harry Potter, sir.”  _

 

_ “Hm. For a moment I’d thought- no, nevermind.”  _ He thinks aloud in his proper voice, and I quirk an eyebrow. 

 

_ “What is it?”  _

 

_ “You remind me of the last parseltongue to pass through these halls. Your souls, your essence of magic is greatly similar to his. What have you come for, Mr. Potter?”  _ I wonder the answer to this myself, when inspiration strikes. 

 

_ “I was wondering if you have seen anything, anything strange. I think that someone is trying to get into the third floor, to steal the object that is hidden.”  _ I say, and I watch his face carefully. He seems to study me before answering, choosing his words as carefully as I chose mine. 

 

_ “Ah. I see and hear many things as a member of the large community of paintings here, Mr. Potter, though I do try to avoid most of the insufferable bloodtraitors that roam these halls.”  _ He says, and I try not to sneer at the term. I decide that arguing won’t do any good, neither will mentioning my own blood status. Changing the topic, then. 

 

_ “Yes, I imagine that would be hard sir. Do you by any chance know what it is that is hidden?”  _

 

_ “I do indeed, and I am under a binding curse never to disclose any information I hear as a painting in the headmaster’s office. However, I do believe we have come up with a loophole to this plan, Mr. Potter.”  _ He says, smiling mischievously. His eyes gleam with a sadistic glee, and I try not to let the unhinged look unsettle me. 

 

_ “Indeed, sir.”  _

 

_ “I will not give direct answers, for while the loophole is here it is not simple. What you seek is a priceless object, one that is of no use to those who do not choose it, and unusable to those who desire it. I believe a key in your search would be the name Nicholas Flamel.”  _ He riddles, and I nod, memorizing the words. 

 

_ “Thank you, sir.” _

 

_ “Do come by again, Mr. Potter. It is not often I am able to converse with another like me.”  _

 

_ “Yes, sir.”  _ I turn and decide it’s been long enough to return to the dorms, and I indeed find Draco sitting in the common room and working on a Christmas letter to his mother. He looks up when I walk in, and speaks in an annoyed tone. “The house elves moved our room back, and left a note saying it had to stay that way.” he says, and I laugh.    
  


“Well, they saved us the trouble of moving it on our own. Besides, we can just move it back if you want, it's not actually against the rules.” I grin, and he smirks before responding, “Way ahead of you, Potter.” and continuing with his letter. I walk through to the dorms, and find that it is in fact back to normal for the most part. Draco has left the other’s things alone, but our beds are still pressed to make a larger one, and he’s conjured some thin green material to make a tent-like enclosure reminding me of the forts Dudley used to make with his friends. 

 

I wrap and hide the gifts in my trunk, grinning in anticipation to send them. I decided at the last moment to send the Dursley’s a magical whistle that critiques everyone around it, if only for the amusement at their reactions. 

 

I send a school owl off with their gift and Pansy’s, and some sweets to Blaise and Hermione. Walking back out into the common room, I see Draco send his owl off to his mother with the letter and a package, and he turns back to me. 

 

“Want some dinner?” he asks, and I nod, handing a whining Ikarus over to his actual favorite person, pouting. Draco just laughs and pulls me towards the door, and we make our way to the kitchens. 

 

I relay the things Salazar told me, and Draco decides we need to look through the library. Following him up to the empty library, we agree not to ask Ms. Pince to avoid questions and simply looks on our own. 

 

Searching through all of the books in the F section, we are a few books away when a sour Madam Pince barks that it’s past curfew and we have to leave. We ask to check out the books left over, but she refuses saying that the library is officially closed and we should have checked them out before curfew. 

 

Walking back with Draco, I listen to his fervent rant, refraining from giggling at the more preposterous lines. 

 

“I mean, I’m a Malfoy, better than human, above all? Surely she must be jealous, it is the only possible answer.” he says cheekily, and I roll my eyes knowing he doesn’t actually mean it. Does he think that he should get all he wants? Yes. Does he pitch a fit when it doesn’t happen that way? No, well yes, to me later when nobody can hear, but no. 

  
Draco takes an extra long shower, and he makes sure to speak extra loudly so that I can hear him through the thick door as he plans out all the books we’ll look through after the holidays, and I smile stupidly. I realize that I got lucky to meet this boy, who worried over hair and pushed me to my limit with school work and was so high maintenance he gave most celebrities a run for their money, but he chose to stay here for the holidays and to learn my language and to be my friend. I fall asleep before he gets out, grinning that I had such luck. 


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is here get ready for the feels train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, quick question since I'm new to the site, are hits like individual or like if the same person reads twice is that two hits? Anyway, I hope you enjoy, the next few chapters will be longer but there are only a few left before I begin on the next book.

“Harry! Get up! Get up get up! It’s Christmas!” Draco practically sits on my chest, using his body weight to jolt me from sleep. 

 

“What bloody time is it?” I ask blearily, searching for my glasses only to have them shoved unceremoniously onto my face. 

 

“Christmas time. Now come on, I want to open presents.” he says, leaving only to yank me out of bed by the arm. 

 

“Wait, let me-”

 

“I know, I know. Brush your teeth. Might as well do it too, even though it hours till breakfast.” Draco laughs, rolling his eyes. I enjoy brushing my teeth, it makes me feel clean. Plus, I’d had to use nasty, chemical tasting stuff at the Dursley’s, the cool mint seems like candy now. 

 

“Okay, let’s go.” I grin, taking the presents from my trunk and following him downstairs where a sizeable stack of presents lay, most in Narcissa’s silvery wrapping paper with charmed snowflakes floating around the paper. 

 

“Here, these are yours.” I say, and Draco thanks me, exchanging his present for mine. I sit on the floor, against the couch and watch amused as Draco tears through his gifts, excitedly showing each to Harry and setting it carefully to the side before opening another. He ended up bringing a few packages over that were addressed to me, hidden away under other parcels. 

 

I open each carefully, my stomach going wild with excitement as I tear away the fragile paper. The first is some sweets from Blaise. I open a chocolate frog and eat it, looking at the little card that comes from it which most wizards collect. I know Draco used to, he hasn’t kept up with it since Hogwarts, though.

 

I almost choke on my candy when I read the little description for the wizard who is no longer in frame, and Draco looks over alarmed. I hand him the card, wide eyed, and he grins. 

 

“You found him! Nicholas Flamel!” he exclaims, and I blush.    
  


“Thank Blaise for sending this particular pack.” I laugh, and we decide to look now in the alchemist and philosopher section rather than simply looking for his name. I open Pansy’s next, and nearly choke again even though I have no candy once I read the title of the book. 

 

_ All things for Wizards who like Wizards.  _ I am going to kill her. I hide the book under the pile, cheeks flushing at the cartoon image of two wizards moving on the front, stark naked and holding hands. Making sure Draco hasn’t seen, I move on to the next present, this one from Hagrid. I grin, setting the rock cakes aside by the fire, hoping that they might soften in the heat. I’ll have to try and see him today, I didn’t know how to get his present to him once it came through owl order yesterday. 

 

The package from Severus is small, holding a couple of letters all varying in age and texture, and an envelope. Cushioning both are a se4t of Quidditch robes, which I fuss over absolutely in love with before settling to read the letters. I feel my throat constrict with unshed tears as I read the first one, written in a loopy script.

 

**S,**

 

**James has him sleeping now, but Harry absolutely loved the present you sent for his first birthday. I do wish you would have warned us, but I suppose you do have your reasons. You’ll have to come down for dinner some night this week, Harry misses you.**

 

**I wanted to talk to you about the forms to make sure Harry is yours to leagally adopt should anything happen. These days we must be prepared, as much as James insits he’s immortal. Albus has the jacket, I didn’t ask why he needed it.**

 

**We have time this monday for you to stop by, I’ve no idea what your schedule is. Even James admitted to missing you, though his words were less direct and filled with more names I’m afraid.**

 

**With love,**

 

**Lily**

 

I read the note over and over, knowing that it’s just a quick scrawl to invite a friend over, she probably hardly thought of it once it was sent. But this is the first thing I’ve held that my mother held, and I don’t feel the tears until I see them drop onto the paper. 

 

Wiping them away before Draco can see or I ruin the letter, I read the next. 

 

**Snivellus,**

**Albus sent word, we’re leaving the safe house. We hope you’re safe, and that you get this and burn it in time. Know that neither of us blame you if you are unable to help, we fear sending this is rash but  we need you prepared to take Harry, the key to our vaults is in his coat pocket and a new Fidelius must be cast. Protect him with your life.**

 

**Ja**

 

The letter is cut off and smeared with ink, and I realize with a sickening drop of my stomach what must have distracted my father from finishing his last letter. 

 

The last is new, and the ink is hardly dry. I brace myself to read it, trying to quench the raging emotions inside of me. I feel angry that he would show me these, but also extremely grateful. I am hurt, I never realized how much I miss them until I was given this piece of them. 

 

**Severus,**

**On the conditions set by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, we grant you permission to legally adopt Harry James Potter. The following conditions are such, that he must spend a total of six weeks with his muggle relations, Mr. Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Petunia Evans Dursley. You will have full custody of Mr. Potter during this time, however you must not visit him nor his relatives. They have signed the document below, agreeing to house the child for this time only, as long as you do not write o him more than once a week and do not come directly to their home.**

 

**The following signatures and information is required in order for the adoption to legally proceed.**

 

**Current Legal Guardians** : _ Petunia Dursley               _ _Vernon Dursley_                     

 

**Adoptive Parent(s):** _ Severus Snape            _

 

**Legal Witness:** _ Albus Dumbledore      _

 

**Adoptive Child** : ____________________

 

I stare dumbfounded at the sheet before me. While I hate the thought of ever seeing the Dursley’s again, I feel an enormous grin stretch across my face. Severus wants to adopt  _ me!  _

 

I show the last letter to Draco, keeping the others to myself for now. He urges me to sign it right away, and I do so, rolling it carefully back up to give to Severus. 

 

The last three presents are from the Weasley’s curiously enough, Draco and an unsigned parcel. The Weasley mother, Molly, knitted me a green sweater with a silver H on the center, and she wrote a small note saying that Fred and George mentioned I made the quidditch team and seemed nice enough so she’d made me a Weasley family sweater. 

 

I smile, reminding myself to write her a thank you note with a gift in return. 

 

Draco’s gift is an expensive set of drawing tools, from oil paint tubes that change the color you desire to graphite pencils that only smear when you choose. I grin, thanking him excitedly, and decide to begin drawing later that day. 

 

“You just doodle a lot on your notes and things. Now you have actual drawing parchment.” Draco shrugs, and I almost miss the pleased smile on his face. 

 

“Now open yours.” I say, walking over to sit closer to him. He rolls his eyes smiling, pulling my oddly shaped parcel over. 

 

One is a box, with a charm on it by Severus so that the present would work. The second had to be wrapped thickly, several times around to dim the light glowing from it. 

 

Opening the first one, I watch his face carefully as it goes from shock to a wicked grin. He reaches inside carefully, pulling out the baby boomslang snake, a light green color with some white and black spots. 

 

“ _ Hello, I’m Draco.”  _ he starts, hesitantly. 

 

_ “Hello Draco, Harry has told me all about you. He was right.”  _ The boomslang says gleefully. 

 

_ “About what?”  _

 

_ “You speak parseltongue. Harry says that you are my wizard now?”  _

 

_ “Yes, I am. What is your name?”  _

 

_ “Harry said you will name me.”  _ the snake says, unsure. 

 

_ “Hm, well Malfoys, that’s my family, have a tradition. We name our own after stars. How about… Scorpius?”  _ I smile, I hadn’t realized that this was the trend in the odd Malfoy names. 

 

_ “Yes, that is a good name. Harry said that he has a snake, Ikarus. May I meet him?”  _

 

_ “Yes. Ikarus!”  _ the lazy snake slowly uncoils around my stomach, dropping to the floor with a soft slap and moving towards Draco curiously. 

 

_ “Yes Draco?”  _

 

_ “This is my snake, Scorpius. He is not prey, he is a friend. Would you like to meet him?”  _

 

_ “Of course, maybe now I won’t be so lonely. I can share all of my secrets.”  _ The snake says, flicking his tongue in amusement at the boys nervous looks. 

 

_ “Little traitor. Scorpius, this is Ikarus.”  _ Draco says, setting the snakes beside one another. They study each other for a moment, carefully sizing up. 

 

_ “Hello, Scorpius. There are lovely mice and birds here, the hunting grounds are great here.”  _ Ikarus says politely, obviously excited for this new friend. 

 

_ “Yes, I much prefer to poison my own prey rather than the frozen rubbish they feed us. It will be nice to claim my rightful place in the food chain once more as the predator.”  _ The little snake says, rather sadistickly.  __

 

_ “I just rather enjoy the chase, the thrill. The food is an added bonus.”  _ If a snake could shrug, Ikarus would. 

 

“Let’s let them talk about their prey on their own.” I say with a grimace. It strikes me as funny how similar our pets are to us. 

 

“Thank you!” Draco says, suddenly springing to hug me, his force taking me by surprise and sending us both sprawling onto the floor. 

 

“Of course, maybe Ikarus will actually hand out with me for once.” I joke, and he rolls his eyes. 

 

“C’mon, the next one.” I say, and he smiles. 

 

“Okay, but then you have to open your last one.” he warns, and I nod. I watch in the same anticipation as before, as he carefully unwraps the fragile stars. They are held together in the constellation with a magical binding, and Draco laughs in slight amusement. 

 

“The Draco constellation.” he says, recognizing the image his mother had painted on his nursery wall. 

 

“Yea. I thought they were pretty cool, and you mentioned having them painted on your wall once so I figured maybe they would make you less homesick.” I explain, and I find myself tackled into another hug until he remembers my last present, the unsigned one. It has stiff, nodescript paper and moves as though made of fabric. 

 

Opening it, it feels like a regular fleece blanket, amde of a soft oaky brown with changing shades reminding me of water. Pulling it free from the wrappings, I find that it is a large cloak rather than a blanket, so I shrug and hang it over my shoulders, looking up sharply when Draco gasps. 

 

“H-Harry, where on earth did you get that?” he asks, and I look down for some reason for his panic, perhaps its a poor brand disgracing the presence of a Malfoy? I feel the blood drain from my face when I can’t see any of my body that the cloak is touching, and I can only imagine how disconcerting it must be to only see my head. 

 

“It’s an actual invisibility cloak! They’re extremely rare, most only last a few years or so.” Draco explains, in awe himself. His father had owned one as far back as he can remember, before they all found out about his dealings with the Dark Lord and Narcissa turned him in, especially hard when one considers that she was bonded to him and it meant that she’d have to feel what he felt until the bond could be broken. 

 

“Imagine all the shit we can get up to in the castle now that we’ve got this.” I grin wickedly, and he mirrors my grin, suggesting we hide it for now and go see Severus and Hagrid. I agree, grabbing the gifts I’d bought and taking them with us as we walk excitedly in the hall, speaking in parseltongue about what we should do first with the cloak as our snakes added in some comments here and there. 

 

“Wait, did you bring the papers?” Draco asks, and I nod. We ask the painted knight to get Severus, and he grumbles at being woken up but turns to find him all the same. The door swings open a few minutes after he has returned, explaining that Severus was asleep.

 

“And what could you two need at this ungodly hour?” Severus’ drawl snaps us from our parselmouth plans, and I grin at him, thrusting his presents forward and ducking behind him to walk into his rooms while he stumbles under the weight of the cauldron. 

 

He walks in holding the heavy gift, giving me a playful glare. I simply smile lazily back while Draco makes little dry comments in parselmouth, earning a similar glare. 

 

Severus thanks me for his gifts, and actually smiles the tiniest bit when I hand him the signed adoption papers, squeezing him in an impromptu hug which he hesitates to return, but does so with the same enthusiasm after a minute. 

 

I end up having to mail Hagrid’s little dragon replica, no more than a few inches long and not actually alive but charmed to seem so, down to his hut since the snow is as tall as I am. He somehow makes it to dinner in the great hall, however, and he thanks me jovially showing off the tiny red dragon which coughed a few flames every once in awhile. 

  
Laying my head on my new pillow, Draco, I fall asleep to the excited chatter of the two new reptile friends laying on our bellies, only managing a mumbled goodnight before I passed out. 


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School starts once again and Harry looks into a mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just thank you all so much, the response to this book is so much more that I ever hoped for and your comments and kudos and reads all make me so happy, I smile every time I see them. There will be about two to four chapters left in this book, and the next kind of picks up right at the beginning of the summer, but I'll need a few days break between books to get an outline formed. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of that, enjoy!

The next few nights we spend wide awake, hidden under the invisibility cloak and roaming the dungeons until we have the labyrinth of corridors long forgotten and rooms no longer used memorized like the back of our hand. Ikarus and Scorpius travel with us, out of the cloak but moving almost silently aside from the idle chatter that anyone but us would assume is a draft of wind.    
  
Draco's snake, while extremely shy and inquisitive as just a baby, turns out to be picking up his mannerisms quickly. He preens under attention, seems to prefer following Ikarus rather than jump into what he does not know, and is quite sharp tongued.    
  
Naturally, Draco refuses to see the resemblance, denying all except for the wit. Severus of course notices our tired eyes and odd sleeping schedule, but does not comment on it other than once reminding us that when school starts once more we'd best be back on track.    
  
Draco had demanded we have all of our homework done for break so that we could enjoy it better, and as first years we easily finished the weekend before holidays even officially started. I grimace watching the fifth and seventh years who stayed back their test years spend all day in the library, only coming to the common room to keep studying or completing essays.    
  
Once we find another interesting secret passageway cutting time walking to classes in half, I propose an idea to Draco. The Weasley twins would be a good pair to be close with, they have quite a few tricks up their sleeves. I decide we should tell them of these passages, and after some convincing Draco agrees.    
  
The twins demand that we show them the one in the dungeons, saying that they already know of the one on the fourth floor. Once they see it, they turn to talk in low voices, and leave after thanking us hurriedly, both bending over a piece of parchment.    
  
Laughing at the idea that they were making some elaborate plan, I finish up my shower and dry off, not bothering to try and take my hair and changing into some large, ill fitting sleep clothes of Dudley's.    
  
Walking out into the dorm, I laugh when I see both snakes coiled around a snoring Draco, who had insisted he wasn't tired and we should go exploring.    
  
I'm not tired in the least, so I tell Ikarus to let Draco know I'll be exploring if he wakes. Donning the cloak, I decide to just wander since I don't want to find anything special without Draco.    
  
Letting the bewitched staircases move as they please, I find myself somewhere near the charms classrooms, a vacant area of the castle since no houses are here. The classrooms are all locked, and while I know the spell to enter I've been in them before.    
  
My eyes falling on one towards the back of the hall, I feel a wave of frustration. Much as Draco and I tried, we couldn't seem to open it, only drawing us to it more.    
  
Walking over, I irritatedly jiggle the usually firm handle, which actually gives way. My mouth agape, I try again, and the door swings open without so much as sticking.    
  
Walking in cautiously, I find the room empty except for a large rectangular mirror, elaborately gilded in silver.    
  
Closing the door and locking it, I walk closer to the mirror to get a better look. The mirror is old fashioned, with two legs that are held firm by screws to allow adjustment of the angle the mirror takes. Words, presumably in Latin, are carved into the top of the mirror.    
  
I nearly jump back in shock when I can clearly see myself in the mirror, despite my cloak. That isn't how it should work, I've seen other mirrors and I've been invisible to them.    
  
Walking back into the view of the mirror, I feel yet another thrill of fear as I see other people in the mirror with me. Running my hand through the air around me, I find that I am indeed alone, and I steel myself to take a good look this time.    
  
Studying the faces in the mirror, I vaguely recognize the red haired green eyed girl smiling back at me, her imaginary hand on my shoulder. Behind her is a man who looks similar to me, just older and decidedly more confident. On my other side is Severus, dressed in muggle clothes he wore while at home and smirking. Just in front of him, brushing shoulders with me is Draco, smiling with fussed messy hair and an easy expression. Behind all of us, less distinct but smiling, are people with vague faces, as though I've met them but don't remember. I assume the connection between all of these people is that they're my family, alive and well.    
  
I feel the tears before I see them, not focused on myself but rather my parents and supposed family. Wiping it away frustratedly, I start as someone clears their throat from the corner of the room.    
  
Whirling around, I realize this must be Dumbledore, I never have seen the man up close. He looks curious, his eyes twinkling as though he know more than I do.    
  
"Not to worry Harry, you are in no trouble. I was simply about to move this mirror to its intended place, I am afraid it was brought here months ago but I have procrastinated going through the motions to put it in place." Dumbledore says, his tone amused.    
  
"Oh. Erm, I'm not usually out after curfew, this was just a-" I begin, holding my cloak up.    
  
"A gift, one from me actually. It was your father's, I decided it was time you had it." He says, smiling and I thank him confused. 

 

“Sir, if I may ask, what is this mirror?” I question, turning back to watch my mother smile as my dad shoves a grinning, dark haired man. 

 

“This is the Mirror of the Erised, Harry. It shows us our greatest desire, the thing we want more than anything else in the world.” he explains, and I try to hide a small smile.    
  
"Best be off to bed now Harry, the corridors are no place for a boy at this hour." He says, a mild warning in his voice.    
  
"Yes, sir."    
  
My mind reeling, I put the cloak back on and rush back to the common room to tell Draco.

  
  


“I just don’t see how you two had all break, and you still forgot to research a solid lead.” Pansy says, her shrill voice welcome after such a long holiday. Turning from where I am at my desk, I grin and jump up to hug her. 

 

“How is your family?” I ask, and she fills me in on her holidays while I tell her some things about mine. She cackles maniacally when I berate her for my gift, saying that she wasn’t blind. Whatever that meant. 

 

“Well, are you asking Hermione out anytime soon then? You’ve spent all year mooning over her.” I quip, and she flushes, punching me on the shoulder roughly. 

 

“So, did you do the homework for the break?” Pansy asks, sprawled across my bed cuddling Ikarus. 

 

“I’m friends with Draco, what do you think?” I ask, not turning from my desk. 

 

“What are you doing over there then?” she asks, standing silently unbeknownst to me as I continue sketching on the heavy paper from Christmas. She gleefully snatches my drawings from the table, running and falling onto a bed looking at them greedily. 

 

“Looks like you have quite a common subject.” she laughs, waving a drawing of Draco and Scorpius next to the fireplace. I flush, taking them back and locking all of my drawing materials in the desk drawer. 

 

“Well, he’s the only person who was around. Are you excited for Potions tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject. She begins gossiping about classes, which leads to gossip about the students and I find myself caught up on the intricate details of the lives of kids I’ve never spoken to. 

 

I sleep fitfully, not used to a smaller bed. Ikarus returns at dawn from roaming the halls, which he really should not be doing, but since he’s with Scorpius I don’t mind as much. He coils around my stomach after I shower, and I get fully dressed before beginning to wake Draco. It takes twice the usual time, and he glares at me the entire morning routine, moping and grumbling. I smile, carrying his school bags along with mine as he walks exhausted and off of the schedule down to the great hall, the Malfoy mask slipping into place once we leave the common room. 

 

Potions goes by slowly, and I am grinning by the end proudly holding a perfect Pepper-up potion. Draco helped naturally, snapping from his funk once he’d ad his three cups of coffee. Now I just have to wait for him to crash. 

 

Lunch before the next double lesson is noisy, friends catching up after the break and trying to finish last minute homework. I munch on some chips and chicken, comfort food, as I try to adjust back into having to share the castle with others. The noise is awfully loud, and I begin to realize that I will have to leave this summer, I will have to go back to that awful square house and this will all end. 

 

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and looking up I realize that the section of table I sit at has gone silent. Turning, I smile at Hermione who simply fidgets nervously. 

 

“Thank you for the Christmas gift Harry.” she says, and I smile wider. 

 

“Yea, ‘course. Hey, I meant to ask you in potions but we had to focus on the brew, can you help Draco, Pansy and I in the library today? We’ll let you know what later.” I say, and she nods before walking back to the Gryffindor table. 

 

I turn back, eating some more chips and finally giving up on the silent stares boring into me.

 

“They aren’t all bad, you know. Hermione is the brightest witch in our year, and that Dean thomas is the only one here who can play decent soccer. I can’t be blamed for helping myself.” I say, and they accept this grudgingly. 

 

Defense against the Dark arts is dull, Quirrell seems mildly angry the entire period and snaps at the slightest things, meaning that Slytherins walk out with less house points that we walked in with. Following Draco towards the dorms as Pansy falls back to talk to Hermione about what we’ve found out, I realize that Quidditch will be starting up again soon. After winning the match against Gryffindor, we won to Hufflepuff and only have to play Ravenclaw before the finals. 

 

Flint has a gruesome schedule planned for us, and I groan just looking at how little free time I’ll have left. At least I have a week before practises start up again, between Flint and Draco I’ll be driven mad with over exertion. 

 

Once Draco and I have our homework finished from the day, we find the girls in the library and sneak up some food under the cloak from the dinner so that we don’t have to bother with dinner in the great hall. Hermione gives a disapproving look, but her grumbling stomach seems to convince her to let it go. 

 

We find a few mentions to Nicholas Flamel in the first few books on his ‘profound’ and ‘groundbreaking’ discoveries in alchemy, but nothing that actually mentions his work. Finally, Pansy jumps in delight, pointing at a page in the thick text book she’d been pouring over. 

 

“This has to be it.” she whispers, and we all read gasping at different times as we read in different paces. 

 

Looking up to their ashen faces, I realize that they all definitely know one of those wizarding things again that fails to make me excited. 

 

“It’s a stone that turns anything into gold and makes any man immortal, Harry.” Draco explains quietly, and I feel my eyes widen in realization. 

 

“Which do you think Quirrell is after?” I ask. 

  
“Either way, this can’t be good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, how does one find a beta? I try to proof read but I don't catch all of the mistakes.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional stuff, quidditch game and a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, I also started another story also drarry but very different if anyone is interested.

As final exams draw closer, the teachers begin piling on the homework the few weeks prior to Easter Holidays. The Quidditch game is later in the afternoon today, we’ll have our morning classes and lunch before going out to the pitch. 

 

Rolling out of bed, Ikarus grumbles and moves to wrap around Draco in search of body heat as I start the shower. I feel the usual pre-game nerves, and I remind myself that Quirrell hasn’t done anything since the first game, and we have yet to lose. 

 

But what if today I bugger up and we lose?  

 

A sharp knock raps on my shower door and Blaise yells through the heavy wood. 

 

“C’mon Potter, it’s time to wake Draco and you know none of us have the patience nor the self esteem to deal with that princess in the morning.” he shouts, and I chuckle, drying off and stepping out to find Blaise glaring at me. 

 

“He wants to be woken up on time, he’ll flip if he doesn’t have time to get ready.” he says dryly, and I choose not to respond but instead step into pants and trousers, doing up my button down and leaving my Slytherin tie undone over my shoulders. 

 

Ripping back Draco’s curtains, I plop down onto his lumpy form under the covers, and he groans. 

 

“ _ Up you get princess.”  _ I say, stretching out as he struggles to push me off. 

 

_ “Bugger off you arsehole.”  _ He grumbles, and I laugh. 

 

_ “Ouch. C’mon, it’s a game day. Only half the classes.”  _ I coax, and he finally opens one silver eye to look at me, irrate with consciousness. 

 

_ “Ugh, don’t remind me. Pansy’s apparently been writing with my mother, there’s some rich ravenclaw girl they want me to chat up to make connections.”  _ he says, and I feel my stomach drop. Confused at the odd dry taste in my mouth and sudden urge to be anywhere but here, I decide it’s just nerves before the game. Maybe I can shake them off by going out before classes and flying, or just asking Sev for a pass from morning classes. 

 

_ “Oh. Well, you need time to do your hair then. Get up, I have to go to the hall, I’m hungry.”  _ I say, rolling off of him to grab the nearest set of robes and my bag.  

 

_ “Harry?”  _ he asks, sleepy and confused at my abrupt departure. I pretend not to hear, slipping into the common room and smiling quickly at the few good luck wishes thrown my way before practically running to Severus’ quarters. He opens them irritably, and I deny his offer of tea jumping to the point. 

 

“Can I miss morning classes? I can’t focus, I need to work some energy off.” I say, and he considers me. 

 

“If you sit for tea and explain your reasoning, then I see no reason you can’t miss Herbology, I know Ms. Sprout was only having you pot moon flowers.” he says, and I consider before deciding that it’s worth the mental interrogation. 

 

“I wanted to speak with you actually. The adoption is just about complete, the ministry simply has to copy the papers and sort out things like Gringotts technicalities. So, it’s done.” he says, his face sporting that very slight difference between a sneer and a smile. 

 

“Really? So you’re my- wait, am I supposed to call you Dad?” I ask, devouring the tea and breakfast a house elf sent up even though I’d denied being hungry. 

 

“I will not be a parent scrambling to play the role of best friend, so yes, I would like for you to address me with a fatherly term of your choice. Not in classes of course.” he adds, narrowing his eyes and I laugh. 

 

“Um, okay, Dad. I- since I also call my, erm, James Dad, and I am giving that to you, can i keep my last name? It’s kind of one of the things I have left from them, so.” I trail off, losing confidence as i speak when I fail to read his face. 

 

“Yes, I assumed you would be keeping your name. Now that that’s settled then, who on earth were you so insistent to avoid during morning classes?” He asks, sipping his tea calmly while I splutter on mine. 

 

“Who says I’m avoiding anyone?”

 

“Please, do spare me the verbal duel and skip to the point so I may decide whether or not to write you a pass.” clenching my jaw, I study him and decide that I may as well share. 

 

“If you must know, I felt very angry and irritable and I don’t want to take it out on my friends so I figured avoiding class was the best course of action.” I say, waiting as he considers this. 

 

“What was happening when you felt this way?”

 

“I was waking Draco up, it’s probably just nerves for the game. Best I begin practising early.” I say, and he cocks an eyebrow.  

 

“Why were you waking him up? Can Draco not do this himself?” 

 

“Well, he likes to be up in time to do his hair, and the others refuse to do it because he’s grumpy in the mornings.” I supply, and he lets out a rare, barky laugh. 

 

“I swear, you and Narcissa are the only two I’ve met who humor his standards. Now then, what did he say that upset you?” he says, and I shift uncomfortably. I can’t even make peace with it myself, how can I tell anyone else how much of a freak I really am?

 

“He- he has to chat up some girl according to his mum. I don’t want to talk about this, it was stupid and I am working on fixing it.” I say, sitting on the edge of my seat. 

 

“Wait, fixing it? Fixing what?” he queries. I feel my stomach clench and my breathing quicken as I brace for the argument, knowing I have to try and make him understand.  

 

“I know it isn’t normal, it isn’t right. This is just something I have to fix is all- this is- this- I know boys liking boys is disgusting and horrible and wrong but-I j-just- I am trying to fix it, I swear I am-” my breathing begins to draw short, quicker as the walls seem to be closing in. It’s too bright and loud and just  _ too much _ and I can’t handle this. 

 

Severus stands to comfort me, and through the thin sheet of tears all I see is a tall figure coming closer, and I do what I’ve been trained to do since birth. I can learn, I’m good at learning, that to run is to make them angrier and it’s best to just make the target as small as possible until they have had enough.

“No no no no no no no no please I’m s-sorry, I won’t do it again p-please, I’m so so sorry.” My hands come up feebly above my head, my torso folding into my drawn up knees as I shrink away from the opponent, the bigger person. Bigger people like to hurt, all of my old teachers, my babysitter, Vernon and Dudley and Quirrell all hate me and there must be something wrong with me because I’m the only common thread there. 

 

“Harry, Harry calm down. Shh, you’re safe, here, drink this.” Severus’ voice says vaguely, and I briefly recognize that I am shivering as I reach with a shaky hand for the blue vial held in front of me, deciding I’ll have to drink it either way so willingly is best. 

 

As I swallow the smooth, minty liquid I feel a sense of mellow contentment flood through me, and why was I worried again? Nothing matters, except that I’m comfortable and the paintings on Severus’ wall are moving funnily.

 

“What was that?” I ask, and I’m pleased to hear that my voice sounds normal. 

 

“A calming potion. You will not be attending any classes today, perhaps not even the match. I must write a letter to Professor Mcgonagall, I will return momentarily.” he answers, his voice off. I only think of it for a moment until I am immediately focused on another thing. 

 

Severus returns a few minutes later, and I have somewhat sobered up from the potion, at the very least I can focus on things without distraction now. I watch Severus warily- wait, Dad warily, worried about what he will say. I don’t feel up to talking about it, or at least I know I usually don’t, but this potion is making me feel dangerously up to sharing. 

 

“Now, first I want you to know that I will never, under any circumstances, hurt you. No matter how angry, even if you feel so enraged that you strike me. I will not punish you with magic, either. I understand that what just happened was a learned response, something you had to pick up to survive those damned people. I will threaten them, and do everything in my power to assure your safety this summer. As it is now, I think that a therapist is in order.” he says, pausing to let me speak. 

 

I try to find words, because I don’t want to have a therapist or ever talk about any of it, and I sure as hell don’t believe that even Severus can keep me from hating every moment in that house. 

 

“No, I… No. I don’t need a therapist, I’m just stressed. Please, I don’t have nightmares, I’m not getting hurt anymore, I don’t need one. Not right now, at least.” I say, half pleading, and he stares at me for a long time, his face unreadable. 

 

“Alright, but I do want you to tell me everything and anytime you are set off, because as your father I need to know how to take care of you.” he says, and I nod. He flicks his wand, murmuring ‘accio’ and making his outdoor cloak fly into his outstretched hand. 

 

“Well then, let’s go flying.” he says, smirking, and I grin momentarily relieved that I won’t have to talk about this anymore. 

 

Dad ends up being a pretty good flier, though he somehow manages to look above it all, elegant and condescending even on a wobbly broom in the sky. He flies on his personal broom, and I almost fall laughing because of course he found a broom painted completely black, bristles and all. He gives me an unimpressed look, and mounts his broom, forcing me to catch up. 

 

We fly around the pitch, and he begins conjuring grapes in mid air all around the field, and I have to spot and catch them before they hit the ground. They appear with a soft crack, anywhere in the pitch, and I’m usually nowhere near the next, or the next is conjured just as I snatch up the last grape. We keep up a steady flow of banter, ending up shouting when he makes a grape go across the pitch. He remarks on my flying skills, I tell him he’s old. He says I fly like a maniac, and I say that he flies like old man. He says I look like a mess, I say he looks old. 

 

Needless to say, I can’t come up with good barbs when flying all over. 

 

The grapes grow decidedly smaller, and I have to watch his wand rather than the sky for any hope of direction. He keeps a tally, but naturally it looks very different from mine since every dropped grape was clearly his fault and I can’t be blamed for poor casting. 

 

I end up dropping three (fifteen), and he ends the game decidedly when the fourth would have slipped from my fingers if I wasn’t such a reckless flier, and he said it was ‘dangerous.’ I got it though, didn’t I?

 

He makes me eat a ridiculously large lunch in the empty Great Hall, and I am almost finished when the first few students start to trickle in. I feel considerably better after flying with Dad, and I decide I probably have to apologize to Draco. 

 

When he appears, his stony Malfoy mask is firmly in place and it does not waver when he sees me like usual. He ends up sitting in the only empty seat, the one across from me and next to Blaise. He promptly ignores me when I try to get his attention, so I decide to try another way. 

 

“ _ Draco!”  _ I shout, well, in Parseltongue which is really just a low hiss all the same. His stormy grey eyes flicker to meet mine, and if I were anyone else his death glare would have made me give up and go running. However, I am Harry fucking Potter and this is my best mate, and I’m also pretty sure I’m the one person who can meet that glare and I  wont be giving that up anytime soon  

 

_ “What.”  _ he asks, his galre not wavering. 

 

_ “I’m sorry for being cross with you this morning.”  _ I say, hoping his face will soften but instead he grows angrier. 

 

_ “That’s what you think this is about?”  _ his tone is incredulous even in parselmouth. 

 

_ “What?”  _ I ask, confused. What else would this be about?

 

_ “I don’t care if you match my sass in the mornings, Potter, I don’t like being ditched without a word for multiple classes and having no idea where you were. Do you realize how fucking irritating that was? Everyone kept asking me where you were and I didn’t know how to say that I have no clue where my best mate is or if he’s sick in the hospital wing or dead because he didn’t tell me.”  _ he says, and his voice grows smaller towards the end. I realize how odd that must have seemed, and it makes sense now why he was angry.

 

_ “I- I’m sorry Draco, I should have told you. I just had- I wasn’t feeling myself this morning, I had to go flying and get some adrenaline out. I had to talk to Severus.”  _ I say, trying to avoid giving too many details in public, even though I know nobody can understand us. The others have complained about how rude it was to talk like this in front of them, but nobody is bothering to berate us now, our mutual glares earlier having made the closest few move away a bit. 

 

_ “Why can’t you talk to me?”  _ he asks, hurt. 

 

_ “It’s not like that, it’s… It’s things you don’t want to know about, Draco. You know I don’t want to tell him anything either, he ended up slipping me a calming potion when I freaked out in his quarters.”  _ I say, trying to make him understand. He doesn’t want to know all of that.

 

_ “Why did you freak out in his quarters?”  _ he says, picking out one bit of my sentence. Damn slytherin. 

_ “I, erm, I was upset about something that happened this morning, and it kind of dominoed from there. Led to a touching chat about how he won’t beat me and how I’m not a freak. Lovely morning all in all, really.”  _ I say, trying not to babble but failing miserably.

 

_ “Harry, I’m sorry. I can help you with this stuff, you know. I do want to know what you are willing to share, and I am fine with you needing time before that can happen. But please don’t disappear without a single word next time, I was worried.”  _ he says after a moment, and I look away. I should not want to go fly just after flying off my frustration. I decide to play it off as a joke instead, that’s what I’m good at. 

 

_ “Awe, the flawless Draco Malfoy, worried over little old me? What have I done to receive such an honor.”  _ I joke, and he smiles a bit, obviously knowing what I’m doing but willing to go along with it. 

 

_ “Well someone has to wake me up in the mornings. Now let’s get going, git, you have a snitch to catch.”  _ he says, and I stand with him to go down to the locker rooms. Walking across the grounds, I thank the few excited slytherins who walk past shouting good luck. Draco hangs out with me in the locker room until the rest of the team shows up, and he whines a bit about having to go out and find Pansy and the ravenclaw girl. 

 

“It’s awful really, I don’t even like g- I mean, um, good luck.” he says, rushing to join the students filling the stands. I don’t have time to think over his odd behavior before Flint is barking at us to get on the field. Shaking out my arms, I follow the last person out, drowning out the noise of the stands and focusing on Madam Hooch. Her whistle sounds, and I kick off hard before flying around the pitch, straining to see the tiny flicker of gold. 

 

The score is up to about 40-0 us, when I see it. The sun glints off of the tiny moving ball, down near the Slytherin stands. I fly over smoothly, watching both the snitch and the other seeker, only daring to go full speed when I’m closest to it. Snatching up the tiny ball just above the heads of the students, I grin, looking down to make sure I haven’t hit anyone in my flying when I spot Draco laughing at something a girl in a blue ravenclaw scarf says, and I try to ignore what I’m not pretty sure is some kind of best friend jealousy. 

 

That’s it, I haven’t really had a friend before him and I’m just being protective is all. I can have other friends, and so can he. That’s how friends work. 

 

Landing, I grin and hug my teammates and laugh when Fred and George suggest a party in the common room which Madam Hooch firmly says must be kept under control this time round. Following the twins and a large group of Slytherins, I spot a pale, dark haired boy who i think is in the year above me, Theodore or something like that. 

 

Pulling George to the side, I try to talk kind of quietly. 

 

“Hey, who's that boy?” I ask, nodding to Theodore. George grins. 

 

“That’s Theo Nott, second year. He’s into wizards, you know.” he chuckles, winking dramatically and making me flush. 

 

“No, not like- er, not right now, I mean, no. No, I just wanted to be his friend, he seems cool.” I say, and he nods, his face taking on a mock serious expression. 

 

“Theo! Hey mate, wanted you to meet a friend of mine, Harry.” I smile, and Theo walks over saying hi to George and then me.. When begin talking about quidditch, but then end up talking more about potions and the technicalities of the ingredients. George grows bored, saying “You two can keep talking books and school, nerds. I’m joining the party.” and he walks ahead going through the common room door. 

 

“I have a book that talks about the theory of how dragon blood and powdered werewolf teeth can be used in healing potions, I can lend it to you if you’d like.” Theo says, and I grin, nodding. 

  
“Yea, that sounds great.” 


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets into far more than an eleven year old should, and his friends are right there with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man you guys, this is it. One more short chapter after this to wrap it up, then onto book two! Thank you so much for reading this and encouraging me to stick it through. Enjoy!

The entire time sitting through exams I am only half focused, waiting for Quirrell to fry me in my seat as the teachers pace up and down the rows of desks in the sweltering classroom. Our written exams begin in the mornings, and then our practical exams are in the great hall after lunch. The warm weather taunts us, making the classes a nightmare full of stuffy desks and the scratches of quills. 

 

Hermione and Draco insist on going over each exam in detail during lunch on the grounds, so Pansy and I joke around and try to ignore their arguments over the correct answers and how much detail an O required. 

 

The final exam is Potions, and I am confident in this exam as we write the ingredients and steps in detail to three potions of our choice and then brew a Pepperup potion in the practical. Once we are free, I suggest a trip down to Hagrid's and Pansy declines, talking about some party in the common room. Hermione agrees, and we make the trip down after disposing of our schools bags. 

 

Hermione isn’t nearly as interested in Quirrell’s behavior as I am, so I eventually give up the topic and Draco argues with her about the Charms exam until we hear Fang’s booming barks as Hagrid struggles to open the door.

 

“Ah! You three! Where’s Pans’ then? Hermione, I haven’ seen you since Christmas, how are ya!” he says happily, letting us in and hurrying to prepare some tea. He serves some rock cakes as well, and I feed a few to Fang off of my plate when his back is turned. 

 

“Hagrid, what is that in the cauldron over the fire?” Hermione asks, and I notice the overtly large caldron that shakes slightly on the hook.

 

“Oh, that’s nothin’, ‘Mione. Now, how were exams?” he’s avoiding the question. Draco and I share a glance before turning back. 

 

A startled scream from Hermione interrupts our question, as she stands to get a closer look into the cauldron. She looks back to Hagrid, incredulous. 

 

“Hagrid, is that a dragon egg?” she asks, shrill. I feel my stomach drop, of course Hagrid would bring a dragon egg into a wooden cabin. 

 

“Well, yes. They’re about ready to hatch, won ‘im in a game o cards. Great deal, man gave it over after a few questions.” he says excitedly, as though not discussing an illegal egg in his home. I know that Hagrid loves dragons, but this is far even for him. 

 

“Wait, Hagrid, who did you say gave it to you?” I ask, worried. Maybe I am paranoid like Draco says, but if I wanted to know how to get past Fluffy I’d go to Hagrid, just like I did, and I’d know to get him drunk and excited. For example, give him a dragon. 

 

“I didn’ see his face, he was wearin’ his cloak the whole time. Don’t look at me like that, lot’s o weird folk down in the Hog’s Head.” he says, and we share more troubled looks. 

 

“And what kind of questions did he ask?” I demand, half out of my chair already. 

 

“Oh, wanted ter make sure I could handle the dragon mostly. Asked what I did here as gamekeeper, tol’ him anything's a piece o cake after Fluffy, how he’s jus a big sap after music ya know…” Hagrid is still talking, oblivious, but I am out the door and followed by the other two before he realizes anything. He calls after us, confused, but we are already halfway to the castle by that point. 

 

“Harry! Slow down, as long as Dumbledore is here nothing will happen.” Hermione says, catching up and pulling me to a stop. 

 

“I have to tell Dad, Quirrell will try tonight. I know it was him under the cloak, everyone knows Hagrid loves dragons. He knows how to get past Fluffy, and I have to beat him to it.” I say determinedly, walking through the entrance doors and towards the dungeons as I speak while Draco looks at me shocked. 

 

“No, Harry. We will tell Snape, but you won’t be going through there.” he says, and I am about to retort when Professor Mcgonagall interrupts us. 

 

“Students, may I help you? You should be outside enjoying the sunshine.” she says briskly, and I swallow before responding. 

 

“Professor, we must speak to the Headmaster.” I say, and she looks at me as though I’ve grown a second head.

 

“The Headmaster is a busy man, Mr. Potter. And besides, he’s just left.” she says with an air of finality. 

 

“Left? Where has he gone? He can’t leave!” I say before I can think it through. She purses her mouth angrily at my outburst. 

 

“Headmaster Dumbledore is busy, Potter. He and Professor Snape have been called to the Ministry by the Minister of Magic on urgent business. I am sure your worries can wait until tomorrow.” with this she turns heel and sweeps away down the corridor.

 

My blood runs cold as I turn to face the other two.

 

“Harry-”

 

“No. Quirrell wants the stone, and I am going to beat him to it. Tonight.” I say firmly, and Draco meets my eyes. He knows better than anyone that once I make up my mind it’s done, and he sighs. 

 

“Fine. I’m coming with you.” I am about to protest when Hermione shocks both of us.

 

“Me too.” we turn to her, mouths open in shock. Draco I expected, we get into all sorts of shite together, but Hermione is too smart to risk her life in this way. 

 

“What? You two would die in there without me. I’m going to spend the night in the Hospital wing, I will meet you outside of the door at a quarter to midnight. That is when my common room empties out, so I assume yours is similar. I will be in the library preparing, I will see you then.” she says, before rushing up towards the library. I turn to Draco, who simply shrugs. 

 

“Well, let’s make a plan.  _ In Parselmouth _ .” he adds, and I nod. 

 

“ _ So, we know how to beat Fluffy..”  _ I say as we walk down to the dungeons, our heads pressed together in secrecy. 

 

Hermione’s POV

 

Madam Pince kicks me out of the library with a stern but kind look, and I smile at her before wishing her a good night. I turn left rather than right at the staircase, moving towards the Hospital wing instead of the common room. When I reach the door, I take a moment to get into character before pitifully groaning as I push open the door. 

 

Madam Pomfrey is on me in a second, luckily believing in my stomach ache and not casting a diagnostic spell. She gives me a stomach settler and dreamless sleep before settling me into a bed, but I vanish both potions while her back is turned to tend to another patient. When she moves away, I recognize Neville. 

 

“Hi Neville! Are you alright?” I say cradling my stomach dramatically. He looks over, surprised. 

 

“Hi Hermione. I’m good, just messed up on the potion’s practical. Are you alright?” he asks, and I nod pouting a bit. 

 

Mentally scanning through the books I’ve read on defensive and offensive magic, as well as a very helpful one I’d read today about  _ Odd answers for tricky situations, _ I pretend to be asleep until Pomfrey leaves.   

 

Watching the clock carefully, about a half hour before twelve I slip out of bed, walking silently across the floor in the white hospital pajamas with my wand held ready. I crack open the door, about to slip into the hall when a voice stops me. 

 

“Hermione ? Where are you going?” Neville’s shaky voice asks as he stands. 

 

“Neville, I’m just-” I begin, but he cuts me off. 

 

“No! You aren’t allowed out after curfew. I’ll- I’ll stop you!” he says, rather too loudly for my liking. I glance nervously towards Madam Pomfrey’s closed door, before making up my mind. 

 

“I’m sorry Neville.” I say, and confusion clouds his face before he realizes what I’m doing. It is a second too late though.

 

“Petrificus Totalus!” In a full body bind Neville falls stiffly to the floor, and I levitate him back into bed before stepping out into the hall. Scanning it briefly, I decide that they must not be here yet when suddenly the air to my left shimmers and they appear, a brown cloak falling to their feet. 

 

An invisibility cloak then. I duck underneath it with them, and we set off for the third floor. We are held up only once when Filch’s cat decides the most opportune place for a bath is in the middle of the hallway, and we have to wait for her to leave before moving on. 

 

Once we reach the door, I unlock it quietly, and we walk into the room cautiously only to find that Fluffy is sound asleep, an abandoned flute laying next to us. She stirs when we enter, but I snatch up the flute and blow tunelessly into it until she is passed out again. We set the cloak aside, and Harry turns to us quickly.

 

“He’s already here, I need you two to go get professors and I’ll go after him.” he says, and I almost laugh. 

 

“Shut up, Potter. Let’s go.” I say, and lead the way towards the open trapdoor. Smiling at them and gripping my wand tighter, I take a deep breath before dropping feet first into the dark hole. 

 

Harry POV

 

Hermione disappears through the trapdoor, and it is a few seconds before we hear the impact of her weight against something. 

 

“It’s safe, some kind of plant I think. Anyway, it’s soft.” she calls up, and I slide my legs over and drop through finding that the landing isn’t bad. Draco lands a few moments after me, on top of me and he squirms to get off. However, as he begins to move I feel a tendril of what seems, like Hermione said, like some kind of plant twist around my ankle, and I can hear it moving beginning to trap Draco as well. 

 

“Hermione, what is this stuff? It’s trapping us!” I say, and she gasps hopefully in realization. 

 

“Don’t move, stop struggling and it will let go. It’s Devil’s snare, I read about it today.” she says, and I try to follow her directions. Relaxing, I lay against the plants and feel the tendrils slowly loosen their hold on me, the support underneath me growing weaker until I drop a few feet onto solid ground. 

 

“It’s worked!” I cheer, and Hermione falls through a few seconds later. Draco doesn’t drop through, and he begins to panic. 

 

“Hermione, what else kills it?” I ask, urgently. She wrings her hands, thinking. 

 

“I don’t know, it likes the cold and dark…” she thinks aloud. 

 

“So start a fire!” I say, and she looks around. 

 

“But there isn’t any wood!”

 

“ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?” Draco’s voice screams, and she jumps. 

 

“Of course!” with a wave of her wand, a spurt of fire blooms and the plant visibly recoils, dropping Draco once more right on top of me. 

 

We gather our bearings before pushing through the door cautiously, and I blink as my eyes adjust to the bluish light reflecting off of moving birds, with thin wings like a fly an a metallic colouring. A few brooms lie cast aside on the floor, and after looking across the room I realize the only way out is another door. 

 

Walking the edge of the circular room, I stop at the door and find it locked, even with alohomora. 

 

“Harry, they’re keys!” Draco says, and I turn to see him pointing at the odd birds. Looking closer, I realize he’s right. 

 

“Right, it’ll be brass, um, old fashioned and big. Like the lock.” I say, scanning the cloud. I spot a larger one with a bent wing, moving slower than the others and I jump the broom without another thought, reaching for the key. I did not expect the others to start flying even faster, and Hermione snatches a broom for herself and joins me in the air, Draco having been a second before her. 

 

“We have to close in on it! Draco, from the bottom, Hermione to the left there, okay… Now!” Diving, I snatch up the key and narrowly miss crashing with the other two. Landing and tossing the broom carelessly, I try the key and the lock opens without a hitch, the door swinging smoothly. 

 

The key jumps back into the air angrily, flying even slower than before and we all walk through to the next room which comes to life with a few torches. Large, black and white marble statues are lined on either side of the room, the floor checkered. 

 

“It’s a chess board. We have to play our way across to that door.” Draco says, and I nod seeing the resemblance now. A few pieces are made only of a base, or a horse, and I realize with a sickening feeling that this is meant to be played with us. 

 

“Do you think that this is like regular Wizard’s chess?” Hermione asks, nervously. Draco nods. 

 

“I think it’s exactly like Wizard’s chess. Alright, I think I’m the best here at chess so I’ll call it, yea?” we both nod, and he moves towards the board. 

 

“Hermione, will you take the castle there? Harry, the bishop.” he says, and I turn to him. 

 

“What will you be taking?” I ask, taking place of the bishop that unfreezes and marches off to the side of the board. 

 

“I’ll be a knight.” he says, and the knight springs to like before marching to join the others. 

 

“Right, white moves first.” he says, and a white pawn moves forward. The pieces move silently as Draco directs them, and the white pieces seem to have no mercy for every time they take a black piece it is smashed into oblivion. Injured pieces line up on the side of the board, next to crumpled pieces of marble. 

 

“I have to lose the other knight.” Draco says, mostly to himself. When the knight is smashed, marble flying all over I realize that we’ll stand no chance if it’s us.

 

A few times we come close to being hurt, but Draco plays smart, thinking through the steps ahead and moving through the game smoothly. He studies the board, seemingly trying to make up his mind. Hermione and I share worried looks, when he speaks. 

 

“Right, it’s the only way.” he says, quietly before looking back to us. 

 

“I’ll have to be taken.” 

 

“No!” I shout, and he turns to me with a stern look. I know that look, and that look terrifies me in this situation because it means Draco will have his way. 

 

“It’s the only way, then Hermione can checkmate the king. It’s chess, that’s how the game goes Harry.” 

 

“Can I send my snake off so he won’t be hurt?” he asks the chesspiece next to him, and it nods slowly. 

 

_ “Scorpius, go with Harry please.”  _ he whispers, and the boomslang slips from under his shirt, moving across the board to me and coiling with Ikarus. Hermione watches in mute horror as Draco calls his own piece forward, right in the path of a brutal white piece.

 

I briefly recognize the scream as my own when Draco falls, his form not moving from the floor. Hermione is about to move, when I yell at her to stay.

 

“We have to finish or they’ll get us! Come on, checkmate the king so we can check on him.” I say, and she nods, moving forwards to stand before the king and stating ‘checkmate’. He crumbles, and Hermione makes sure that the game is over before we run to Draco, his form still not stirring but when I check his pulse and breathing are steady. 

 

“ _ Ikarus, Scorpius, I need both of you to heal Draco as best you can. Tell him to get Severus and Dumbledore when he wakes, tell him we are both safe.”  _ I say, and both snakes coil around Draco’s chest. 

 

Turning to Hermione, I nod and we move forward. 

 

“Okay, that was Mcgonagall's, Flitwick must have been the keys, Sprout had the Devil’s Snare… That leave Quirrell’s and Snape’s.” Hermione says, and I nod. As we enter the next room, I cough, a foul odour filling the room. Looking around, I realize it must be issuing from the passed out troll lying  few feet away, three times the size of the one on Halloween. I am glad Quirrell took care of it, the last one was foul enough. 

 

The next door leads to a rectangular room, furnished only with a table covered in bottles and a seemingly empty doorway across the way. When both of us are in, the door we’d just left bursts into purple flames, the one leading us to the stone burning black. I move towards the table, and find a piece of parchment with words filling the paper in Dad’s script. 

 

(DQ JK Rowling 285)

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead, 

Another will transport the drinker back instead, 

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, 

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the potion tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size

Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides; 

Fourth, the second left and second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

 

“Brilliant. It’s a puzzle, logic. Most wizards would be stuck in here for ages. Now, let me see.” Hermione says, reading the paper and pacing up and down the row of bottles. 

 

“Right. The smallest one will get us through the black flames, towards the stone.” she says, and I look at the miniscule bottle. 

 

“There isn’t enough for two. Which is the one for the purple flames?” Hermione points, and I nod. 

 

“Okay, you take that and make sure Draco is up. Send an owl to Dumbledore, I’m no match for Quirrell on my own.” I say. 

 

“But Harry, what if You-know-who is there too?” she asks. I shrug. 

 

“Got lucky once, didn’t I?” I grin, pointing at my scar. She rolls her eyes and hugs me tightly, before downing the bottle and walking through the purple flames without harm.  

 

“All good!” she shouts from the other side, and I smile before taking the smallest potion. I feel like a bucket of ice has just been poured over me, and I shiver before stepping through the ticklish black flames, not feeling the heat at all. 

 

Stepping into the next room, I realize that Quirrell is already here, staring into a mirror. He turns to me, stepping closer with an eerie grin and cackling. His turban is loose, and his robes disheveled. 

 

“I was wondering if I’d see you here, Potter.” he snarls, all traces of a stutter gone. I square my shoulders, setting my jaw and refusing to acknowledge any fear I may have felt. Fear won’t help me now, I have to win. 

 

“You. It was you all along.” I say, and he grins even wider. The glint in his eye is unhinged, his manner one of a lunatic. 

 

“Yes. I would have killed you at that quidditch game if Severus hadn’t intervened, but no matter. I can just kill you now. You’re too nosy for your own good.” he says, before black ropes spring from his wand, capturing me and wrapping painfully tight around me. Lovely, more bruises. 

 

He turns back, facing the mirror. With a gasp I realize what this is, the mirror of the Erised. This is what Dad went to get when he left for days without word, this is where Dumbledore had to transfer it. 

 

“This mirror is the secret to getting the stone, I know it. I can see myself, handing it to my master. But how do I get it!” Quirrell stomps in frustration, his voice shaking in anger. 

 

The thing I want most is to get the stone before Quirrell does! So if I stand in front of the mirror, I can see where it’s hidden, but how to do so without him noticing?

 

“You were the one who tried to steal it from Gringotts.” I say, needing to distract him. 

 

“Yes, yes. My master does not forgive mistakes easily, he is a much greater wizard than I. I can see it, but where is it! Maybe I have to break the mirror?” he thinks aloud. A cold, raspy voice seems to issue from Quirrell, and I briefly wonder if he has been possessed. 

 

“Use the boy… Use the boy…” the voice whispers, and I glare with all my strength at Quirrell when he whips around. Draco teases that I glare too much and that’s why some are afraid to be near me, but he does the exact same. Now that I think of it, the only people who can glare just as mercilessly are Draco and Dad. 

 

“You, Potter. Come here.” Quirrell snaps his fingers, and the ropes fall away. I walk slowly over, and he grabs hold of my shirt yanking me before the mirror when I am within reach. 

 

“No, what do you see?” he asks. Well, this is too easy. I just have to lie, honestly, does he know he’s talking to a Slytherin?

 

Watching the pale, green eyed boy in the mirror I expect to see my family again, but instead the reflection grins, reaching into his- er, my pocket and taking out a blood red stone, then drops it back in. I feel a heavy weight land in my pocket, and I almost grin before I remember where I am. I got the stone!

 

“Well? What is it? What do you see?” Quirrell demands. Right, time to lie. 

 

“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore, I’ve won the quidditch cup. A slytherin girl comes and kisses me, and I haven’t got messy hair.” I say, and I almost laugh when he actually buys it. 

 

“Get out of the way, boy.” he says. Unfortunately, the raspy voice speaks once more, but this time I realize it comes from the back of Quirrell’s head, not his mouth like I had thought. 

 

“He lies…” 

 

“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell demands, and I turn slowly on the spot. Dare I make a break for it?

 

“Let me speak to him… Let me see him…” the voice asks, and Quirrell goes a bit pale.

 

“My Lord, you are not strong enough.” He argues, before wincing as though in pain. 

 

“I am strong enough… for this.” it says, and Quirrell screws up his face before reaching behind his head to unwrap his turban. Surely not, it can’t be on him?

 

When Quirrell turns, I feel my blood run cold as the chalk white face stretches into a smile once it sees me, eyes slit like a snake and the nose simply two nostrils. The face looks smaller than a human’s adding to the reptilian features. 

 

“Harry Potter… This is what I have become, merely a soul… Only a physical being when I share another’s body, but I have those faithful to me… Quirrell here drinks unicorn blood for me, as you saw in the forest… but there will be no need for it once I have the stone… Now, give it to me. I know it is in your pocket.” it says, and Quirrell’s face shows confusion where he is turned in the mirror. His eyes are cloudy, and he moves backwards slowly as though unaware of his actions. 

 

“Come on, boy… Give it to me, and you can be one of my followers… do not be like you parents, who died begging for mercy…”

 

“You liar!” I shout, and he merely smiles wider. 

 

“How brave, just like your father… but your mother died for no reason, trying to save you… and now here sacrifice will be in vain… seize him.” it says, and Quirrell spins around and reaches for me, latching onto my wrist. My forehead blooms with pain, my scar feeling as though it is being sliced open and pulled apart. 

 

Quirrell is screaming, his skin where it connects with mine blistering and eruppting in boils and burn marks. He lets go, clutching his lame hand to his chest and looking at me in horror. 

 

“Seize him!” the voice demands, and Quirrell’s eyes are cloudy once more. Before he can grab me, I reach up and place a hand on either side of his face, the skin there sinking in as it burns away until I meet bone, and still I cling to him wanting to destoy Voldemort as he possess his body. 

  
I can feel myself growing heavy, tired with the magical energy. As Quirrell falls, I fall as well, my eyes finding only black against my eye lids and my conciousness slipping away. 


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo this is it, enjoy and I'll see you soon for book two!

When I wake up, it’s to the arching stone ceiling of the hospital wing and the loud chewing of someone next to me. 

 

Sitting up, I look over to find that it is Dumbledore seated next to me, chewing on a chocolate frog from a large pile of candies on my bedside table. He smiles at me once I sit up, his eyes twinkling. 

 

“Good afternoon, Harry.” he says, and I feel a small panic swell.

 

“Sir, Quirrell, he has the stone!” I say, and he merely smiles. Loony old bat, how is this a laughing matter?

 

“Relax, dear boy, the stone is safe. Professor Quirrell has died, and the stone has been destroyed. I had feared it was too late when I pull him off of you in the dungeons.” he says, and I sit back, sated. 

 

“You almost were, he almost got to the stone.” I agree, and he shakes his head. 

 

“No, dear boy, too late to save you! The magical energy it took to overpower him took a toll on you dear boy, both Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are greatly worried, for you’ve been asleep about two days. These are from all of your friends, it is a secret what happened that night so naturally the whole school knows. I do believe Fred and George Weasley had a toilet seat to give you, but Madam Pomfrey had it confiscated for hygienic purposes.” he chats, and I laugh. 

 

“And my Dad, sir? He’s alright?” I ask, and before Dumbledore can respond he is interrupted. 

 

“Only you would be worrying about every other person before realizing you nearly died, brat.” Severus’ voice says, and I turn to grin at him. His smirk (a smile in my book) is the response he gives before he is pulled into a hug, and I smile wider when he doesn’t hesitate to return it this time. 

 

“Now, then. If Madam Pomfrey says you can go-” Dumbledore starts, but I cut him off. 

 

“Wait, I have some questions. Nicholas and his wife, they will die now?” I begin and he nods. 

 

“Yes, they will die, though they have enough elixir to set their affairs in order.” he responds. I nod, gearing up for my next question. 

 

“My mother, he said that she died for me. Why did he want me dead in the first place?” I ask, and Dad’s hand tightens on my shoulder. 

 

“Ah. i am afraid I can’t answer that Harry, though you will know once you are older.” he says, and I set my jaw, trying not to glare at him for the rubbish answer. 

 

“Why couldn’t he touch me?” I ask instead and he perks up at the slight change. 

 

“Ah, well you see, when your mother died for you it laced a protection in your blood. One magic Voldemort never will understand is love, and the power it holds. When your mother made her sacrifice, it left a mark so deeply in your bones, that for him to touch you is pure agony.” he explains, and I nod. 

 

“One last thing. Why did I find the stone?” I ask, and he smiles.

 

“Now, I’m glad you asked me that. One of my more brilliant ideas, if I may say, only someone who wishes to find the stone, find it and not use it, would receive it.” he explains, and I nod. My stomach growls, and Dumbledore laughs before making sure with Madam Pomfrey that I am cleared to go down to the End of the Year feast. 

 

Draco, Hermione and Pansy all jump me the moment I’m out the door, and when Draco hugs me I can feel Ikarus slip under my shirt and begin to heal me. I thank him quietly, and then they all demand to know the full story as we walk down to the Great Hall, even though the other two were there for most of it. I tell them what I’ve learned since talking to Dumbledore, and when we finally reach the feast Draco is talking about the Flamels and why they would have chosen death. 

 

When we walk into the hall, the Weasley twins begin a round of applause and I flush as the rest of the hall joins in. We take our seats, Hermione saying goodbye to go sit by Neville. Dumbledore had beaten us to the Hall, having been seated along with Dad when we walked in. He stands, and the chatter dies down until it is silent. 

 

“Hello, students. What a great year it has been, I thank you all for sharing it with me. Now, you have plenty of time to empty your brains of all that you have learned before next school year. Tonight, we must award the House Cup, and in the lead currently is Gryffindor, with 425, in second Slytherin with 385, third is Ravenclaw with 380, and last is is Hufflepuff with 325.” he says. I deflate with the rest of the table, and Dad looks displeased but I know he really couldn’t care less about the points rather than his student’s reputation. Second isn’t too bad. 

 

“However, I have some last minute points to award.” Dumbledore says, and I continue eating not really listening. 

 

“To Miss Hermione Granger, for being cool and clever in the face of danger, I award 50 points.” he says, and I grin, clapping along with Draco and a few other Slytherins as Hermione beams. 

 

“To Mr. Neville Longbottom, it take great courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends, I award 10 points.” Neville smiles shyly, and across the hall I see Hermione hug him. 

 

“Now, to Mr. Draco Malfoy, for playing the best game of chess this school has ever seen, fifty points.” Draco grins, and I bump shoulders with him congratulating him. Dumbledore waits for the cheers to die down from the Slytherin table before continuing.

 

“Lastly, to Mr. Harry Potter, for defeating an enemy and protecting your school, fifty points.” he smiles, and I grin as Draco elbows me. The students around us quickly do the math, and realize that Gryffindor and Slytherin are now tied for first.

  
“Now, since we have a tie, there will be two house cups for this year. Congratulations, and we will see you next year.” 


End file.
